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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985901">But Nobody Came</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_mellohi/pseuds/h_mellohi'>h_mellohi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>But Nobody Came [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Murder, Bad Ending, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Broken Families, Caretaking, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Imprisonment, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Memory Loss, Murder, Nuclear Warfare, Nuclear Weapons, Rescue Missions, Resurrection, Starvation, Wakes &amp; Funerals, at first, broken fingers, here come the content warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:28:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>49,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_mellohi/pseuds/h_mellohi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In another universe, Punz shows up at the perfect moment, and brings allies. Dream is imprisoned, and Tommy and Tubbo watch the sunset and listen to their reclaimed music discs, victorious and hopeful for a peaceful future.</p><p>This is not that universe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>But Nobody Came [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>812</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Hero's Sacrifice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>listen, i promise, i love how jan. 20th actually turned out. im so happy for them. really i am.<br/>anyways, what if everything was much worse? and so much more complicated?<br/>here's pretty much what I thought might happen on jan. 20th, but worse.<br/>**NOTE: tommy does threaten to kill himself to take away from dream's control over him, much as he did in the actual stream at one point. it does not actually happen, but please be warned if that makes you uncomfortable.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Armorless, defenseless, out of plans. Surrounded on all sides by blackstone bricks, their voices echoed up into the high ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Tommy,” Tubbo said, the smile of resignation on his face sitting in contradiction to the tears that spilled from his fear-filled eyes. He clutched at his shoulder, which was still bleeding with the groove that Dream’s axe had left from an earlier hit. “We have no other options. This is it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, Tubbo, I’m not- we can’t just give up like this, there has to be another way, there has to-” Tommy looked to the glowing portal along the back wall and sent out one last prayer fueled by desperate hope, but there was no sound aside from the warbling of the portal itself and Tommy’s breaths, stuttering with sobs. “Please, it can’t end like this, Tubbo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo squeezed Tommy’s hand, shaking his head. “It has to. We’re out of options. I’m sorry, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t go, Tubbo,” Tommy whispered, his voice cracking. More words sat on the tip of his tongue, half-baked plans and apologies and all the things he had never gotten the chance to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he never got the chance. “That’s it,” Dream said, his boot clicking across the stone and bedrock floor as he approached. “I’ve let you have your goodbyes, it’s time for Tubbo to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Tommy yelped, nearly throwing himself at Tubbo, who wrapped his dirt and bloodstained arms around Tommy’s torso, fingers digging into his torn shirt. Tommy clung back, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight over his best friend’s shoulder, the approaching executioner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Tommy,” Tubbo said quietly, though he didn’t fight back against the tight hug. “It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few more minutes, Dream, please, just give us a few more minutes!” Tommy pleaded, fingers curling into Tubbo’s green shirt, covering him with as much of his body as he could. Legs giving out, he sunk to the floor with Tubbo in his arms, throwing himself over his best friend in a desperate attempt to shield Tubbo for a final time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream forced his hand between them; he gripped the back of Tubbo’s shirt and yanked him backward, dragging him across the floor. Tommy gripped Tubbo’s hand as long as he could, until his fingers slipped out of Tommy’s grasp and left his hand weakly hanging in the air. “I’ve given you enough time, Tommy,” Dream said coldly, pushing Tubbo to his feet. “Tubbo was right. This is it.” With one hand, he gripped Tubbo’s hair, pulling his head back so there was no mistaking the placement of the final blow. In Dream’s other hand was his sword, black by netherite but enchanted to a deceptively soft, shimmering purple, drawn and placed to Tubbo’s neck. Tubbo’s whole body shook, as tears streaming down his face and dripping onto the enchanted blade. Tommy watched in horror as Tubbo shut his eyes for a long moment and stilled, lips wobbling as he tried to give Tommy one last peaceful smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no! There’s not- Dream, new deal, give me- I’ll give you a new deal!” Tommy stammered, words leaving his lips faster than he could think of what to say. “Listen, to me, listen to me right now!” he shouted in desperation. “If you kill Tubbo, then I’ll- I’ll never stop fucking fighting you and swearing at you and I will never let you get a moment’s rest, you hear me? But, but, Dream, if you- let Tubbo live, then-” he sucked in a shuddering breath. “I won’t fight you when you take me to the prison. I won’t run, I won’t- I won’t do anything, try and stop you, or- yeah. I’ll come quietly, as long as you just let Tubbo go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Tommy,” Dream laughed, tilting his head. “You don’t seem to get it - I don’t care whether you come quietly or fight me every step of the way. I will get you in that prison, and you are powerless to stop that! Just like you’re powerless to stop your best friend from dying! You have no power here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy swallowed, blinking hard as he fought to keep his thoughts straight and the tears out of his eyes. His feet took steps backward, into that creepy hallway full of slots of peoples’ possessions.  “No, that’s not- no, ‘cause you said that- that you wouldn’t kill me. You’d kill Tubbo, but you wouldn’t kill me,” he muttered, mind whirling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy…” Dream said warningly, and Tubbo let out a strangled yelp at the blade pressing into his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what if…” Tommy murmured, and his eyes darted from the wall to his left and back to Dream. With two hands, he lifted the Axe of Peace from the wall it had been displayed upon, and turned the handle so the blade was leveled at his own neck</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, no!” Tubbo sobbed, starting to struggle again in Dream’s hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah.” It would be more awkward than a sword, and Tommy’s arm shook with exhausted exertion, but his glare was steady as he looked out at Dream. “If you kill Tubbo, then I won’t hesitate to do the same to myself. Then you won’t have any more fun, right? It’ll be game fucking over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy!” Dream snarled. “You wouldn’t dare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t I?” Tommy screamed back. “You kill Tubbo, and I promise, no matter how fast you can splash a fucking speed potion, I will be fucking dead before you get over here. So,” he forced his voice to steady. “Let Tubbo go, let him through that Nether portal, and I’ll come with you. I won’t even fight, alright? Just please, Dream. Let him go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s words hung in the air, and after a long, still moment, Dream scoffed, shaking his head. Tommy tensed, prepared to swing the axe, but instead the sword retracted, and Tubbo collapsed to the ground, pressing the sleeve of his shirt to the shallow cut on his throat. Tommy let out a near-delirious laugh, meeting Tubbo’s wet eyes with a gentle smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Tommy, I’m not worth it,” Tubbo groaned, coughing as Dream’s boot dug into his side, catching him in the gut and sending him tumbling across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are, Tubbo,” Tommy said with certainty, voice weak with emotion. “You’ve always been, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo struggled to his feet, looking between Dream and Tommy with uncertainty in his eyes. Dream stepped forward, and Tubbo stumbled back a few more feet. “Go on, Tubbo. Before I change my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare,” Tommy threatened, gritting his teeth and tightening his hold on the handle. “Tubbo, go. Just go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy-” Tubbo started weakly, taking steps backward up toward the nether portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just go, Tubbo!” Tommy screamed. His throat burned in exertion, and his face was hot with tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The portal made its familiar rushing sounds, and then there were two. Tommy’s shoulders sagged, and with aching arms he lifted the axe up and set it back on the wall. His hands were shaking when he rested them at his sides, and he tipped his chin up to meet Dream with a quiet defiance as the masked man approached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything about Dream’s body language screamed for Tommy to run. It felt like being back in exile, and as Tommy’s brain fogged up, he swore he could taste the salt in the air and the sharp smell of gunpowder that always seemed to linger. He wanted to run. He needed to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t. Tommy tensed his body as Dream stopped in front of him. He had chosen this, chosen Tubbo’s safety for his compliance, and he intended to fulfil it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s time to go, Tommy.” Dream’s voice was terse, clearly unhappy with the position he had been forced into. Tommy’s lips twitched upward at that, and he let out a soft huff of laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” he murmured, forcing his voice to stay calm. Then Dream pulled a lead from his inventory, and Tommy couldn’t help but blanch at it. “Wait, what’s that for?” he said, foot scuffing along the bedrock in a subdued attempt to book it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold out your wrists, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why,” Tommy sputtered. “I said I’d come without a fuss, and I meant it! I’m not going to run, Dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. It’s a precaution, Tommy, come on. Wrists out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Tommy obliged, putting his wrists together and holding them out in front of him. Dream put the lead around both his wrists and cinched it tight, chuckling slightly as he tugged Tommy toward the elevator he had stood on with Tubbo just minutes ago, although those minutes already felt like centuries long past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, Tommy. Attachments make you weak. In the end, I still got what I wanted. You lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think I did,” Tommy said simply as the sky once again came into view. He paused for a moment, wondering if it would be the last blue sky he’d ever see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Dream tugged on the lead again, and Tommy winced as the knot dug into his wrists, yanking him stumbling forward. “Why’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the shore line approached, he finally answered. “Because I called your bluff, and I got Tubbo to safety.” And despite what that dark corner of his mind whispered to him, he knew that Tubbo would come back for him. They had allies, they must have, even if they didn’t come today. And Tubbo was always good at rounding people up, he would get on it and there would be a cool-ass prison break in no time, with slow motion explosions and cool shit like that! Tommy banished those dark thoughts that whispered of weeks of abandonment and Tubbo choosing his country over him with those far superior thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream, oblivious to the action movie Tommy was creating in his head, only laughed softly as the two of them sat down in the boat, Tommy in the back as Dream rowed the two of them away. “Oh, Tommy,” he said once the shoreline had disappeared from all sides. “You think I didn’t think ahead? You think there’s just a- a cobblestone path waiting for Tubbo that’ll take him to all his friends?” He cackled, louder this time, and a chill ran down Tommy’s spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he whispered, heart pounding in his chest. “What’re you talking about, What d’you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream didn’t stop rowing, though his head turned. Tommy couldn’t look away from the blank smile painted on that white mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All you did, Tommy, was save yourself from watching Tubbo bleed out in front of you. Instead of- of going in peace, with his last memory being of his best friend? Tubbo will die in the Nether, probably from starvation or some mob!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, that’s not- Tubbo will get out, he’s- he’s more clever than you think, you green bastard, he’ll- he’ll-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll what?” Dream crowed. “Slog through a soul sand valley until he’s picked off by a skeleton? Wander a nether waste until a ghast comes and puts him out of his misery? Starves to death in a ravine -- take your pick, Tommy, these are all fates that you- </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doomed Tubbo to!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I didn’t, I-” Tommy brought both his hands to his face, pressing at his eyes to stop the tears that were furiously tumbling out. “You’re- you’re wrong, you have to be, you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think I was fine letting Tubbo go in the first place?” The oars tore through the ocean waters, splashing saltwater onto Tommy’s cheeks. It mixed in with the tears. “In the end, it doesn’t make a difference to me. He’ll still die, and you’re still going to be in this prison forever. I won either way!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cold horror seeped into Tommy as a shadow fell over the boat, obscuring the sky. He looked up through blurry, tear-filled eyes, and watched the last sliver of blue sky become obscured by the looming prison. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next Time: tubbo's escape, or attempt to. </p><p>thank you for reading! comments and kudos are so so appreciated mwah<br/>find me on twitter if you want to chat! @sbimellohi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Orpheus Looks Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Within the Nether, there is nothing but inescapable heat and relentless monsters. Survival is not guaranteed, especially alone, armorless and weaponless.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning for realistic depiction of injuries in this chapter! tubbo has a really rough time and i don't exactly shy away from it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The lead was exchanged for thick chains once they entered the prison. Tommy swayed where he stood for the brief moments he wasn’t being yanked down dark, obsidian hallways, exhausted beyond anything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know, there’s another prison cell, far further back in the prison,” Dream said lightly. “It’s meant to contain someone extremely powerful, there was a lot of hard work put into all the defense mechanisms, to keep that prisoner from ever escaping.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And that’s where I’m going, I reckon?” Tommy grumbled, trying not to show the way his body shook with fear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream laughed, and the hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck rose. “Tommy, I know I said you’re worth a lot, but you’re not worth that much security. No, I’m sure this cell will be enough to contain you.” It was one of many that lined the wall, and Tommy had no way to resist as Dream walked him in there, attaching the end of the chain to a spot on the wall. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the fuck,” Tommy said, pulling at the chains very slightly. “How the fuck am I supposed to do anything like this. I told you that I’m not going to try and escape.” He couldn’t keep the exhausted resignation out of his voice, and he hated that he could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice at his following words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, there still needs to be some extra security while you get used to this place. I’ll have Sam take them off when he brings you food next.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sam?” Tommy’s voice wobbled. Sam had come and visited him once, in exile. Given Tommy a creeper head and promised that if Tommy ever called on him, he’d come. The creeper head still sat within his enderchest, now entirely out of reach. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh you didn’t know?” Dream’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction at how he had made Tommy’s voice tremble. “He built this place, he’s the warden. He’ll be making sure you don’t try anything when I’m not here.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy’s eyes burned with tears again, and the chains clanked as he pressed his hands to his eyes, sinking to the ground without looking at Dream. Revulsion rocketed through him as Dream reached out and ruffled his hair, far too many poisonous memories rising to mind at once. “Don’t-” he said weakly, entirely powerless to the situation. “Fuck off,” he rasped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll be back another time, Tommy,” Dream said, entirely unbothered. “See you then.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The door to the cell shut, and Tommy was alone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heat of the nether crashed into Tubbo’s body, suffocating and inescapable. He looked back toward the portal, and the temptation to throw himself back through there was almost too strong. He reached toward it, fingers trembling in front of the purple glow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he crumpled in on himself and began to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t understand it, he truly didn’t. His mind was barely comprehending everything from the last few minutes as it was, but he knew that he didn’t understand what Tommy had done. Tommy had given up his discs to keep Tubbo alive the first time, which Tubbo felt like he was still working through. And then, Tommy had threatened his own life to keep Tubbo alive. Did he have some plan? Was there something Tubbo wasn’t getting?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably. Tubbo rested his aching head on his skinned knees, and he forced his breaths to slow, residual sobs slowly subsiding. Eventually, his breathing evened out as much as it could, though there was still a twinge in his chest with every inhale that Tubbo was fairly sure was the consequence of a few bruised ribs. Pushing through it like he had so many times before, Tubbo lifted his head again, scanning the environment around him, searching for one of the many paths that crisscrossed the nether. If his math was right, he wasn’t that far from most things in nether terms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo looked up, and was faced with a sheer netherrack wall, stretching up so high it phased into the hazy red fog that spread over much of the nether. Twisting his head, wincing as it stretched the cut on his neck, Tubbo’s eyes widened in encroaching despair as he saw a similar wall on the other side of the portal structure. The ravine stretched down long on either side, every direction a foggy, unknown path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his inventory, frowning at the grim reminder of the explosion that had destroyed all their things at a crack of Dream’s flint and steel. There was nothing, his hands reached into the liminal space that usually held so much and came up empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despair took its hold on Tubbo again, clawing at his shoulder and whispering in his ear with the apathy Tubbo had become so accustomed to. It would be easier to give in, maybe go back through the portal and get stabbed through by Dream. Or he could wait it out here until his hunger ran out, and his body collapsed for the final time. Ghostbur’s existence didn’t seem too bad, all things considered, Tubbo didn’t think he’d mind forgetting the bad bits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But another piece of him, the piece that sounded oddly like Tommy, shoved its way to the front of his mind, demanding that Tubbo not give up, stubborn in its intent to keep living. And Tubbo thought of Tommy’s desperation, what he had given up to choose him and keep him alive again and again. With a hand crusted in dried blood, he wiped his eyes to clear away the remaining tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” he said, unsure if he was talking to himself or Tommy. It felt like one and the same. “Alright, let’s figure a way out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilted his head, scrutinizing the sheer walls that loomed above him. Netherrack, while being the foundational material of much of the nether, had the benefit of being a touch softer than stone, making it easier to mine through that most overworld materials. Still, punching through by hand would exhaust Tubbo long before he got to the top, he could guess that much. He grimaced, rolling back his injured shoulder with a pained hiss, and continued to ponder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, by some small break in Tubbo’s streak of bad luck, something fell from the sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It disintegrated the moment it hit the ground, giving Tubbo a startling example of just how high this ravine truly stretched. The brief glimpse of rotting pink flesh exploded in a soft puff, leaving a scrap of rotten flesh and a chipped gold sword behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s breath caught, and he scrambled a few painful steps across the ravine to pick up the materials. An unsteady smile twitched on his face, the beginnings of a plan starting to form in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo used the sword to hack away at the bottom of his shirt, tearing it into long strips that he wrapped around his scratched and battered palms, pulling the makeshift grips tight. He flexed his hands twice, and bit back a slight wince. “Right, this’ll have to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gold swords weren’t fantastic, but they could dig out a decent chunk in the netherrack. Tubbo tested it, and managed to carve a divot big enough for a foothold. He carved out footholds and handholds as far as he could reach, arms shaking with exertion as he lowered himself from standing on tiptoes and put his arms down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, he reached into his inventory and pulled out the rotten flesh he had picked up. Before his revolting stomach could force him to change his mind, Tubbo bit down on the meat, squeezing his eyes shut as he chewed it as quick as he could. Nausea briefly rolled over him as he swallowed the disgusting material that could barely be considered food, and then Tubbo’s stomach was cramping, growling with a sudden ferocious hunger. He doubled over, wrapping his arms around his middle, groaning. After a few endless seconds, the feeling subsided, and Tubbo stood straight, nodding with slightly renewed invigoration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heat of the Nether had dried the blood from the various injuries on his body, making his movements slow and painful. The wall stretched above him, threatening him with the despair of this overwhelming task ahead of him. Tubbo wasn’t a fool, one wrong step, one divot that wasn’t dug deep enough, and he would fall, and that fall would kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he simply wouldn’t fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Placing the sword between his teeth, Tubbo reached up and pushed his hands in the pre-cut spaces, letting out a strained groan as he pulled himself up to get his feet slotted in the netherrack. Gripping the material tightly with one hand, he pulled the sword from his mouth with the other, reaching up to stab again in the blocks above him to repeat the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he slowly, painstakingly continued to scale the cliffside, his whole body shook with the strain of keeping him pressed to the netherrack wall and not falling to his absolute doom below. Survival instincts kept his mind focused, finding natural cracks within the netherrack to give him extra foundation in his footholds. Sweat soaked every part of his body; Tubbo’s hair was damp with it and he could feel beads of it pouring down his face. What was left of his shirt felt like it was glued to body, stuck there by the oppressing heat that pushed in on every side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo reached up with a shaking hand, finding the next handhold, and pushed his fingers into it. It hurt, forcing the space that was slightly too small for his fingers to open up and let him in, but he grit his teeth and forced his left hand to grip the material with all he had, pulling himself upward for another movement up the cliffside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One foot found the hold, but the other slammed against the wall without finding its spot. Tubbo let out a pained cry, flinching at the unexpected pain. His body twitched to the side, and in a spasm, his right hand slammed against the netherrack wall, and the grip on the sword opened. Perched by two limbs, Tubbo was helpless to do anything but cry out in despair as the sword plummeted to the ground and shattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s breaths came short and fast, panic clouding his vision. “Come on!” He bit out, demanding and firm. “You’ve come so far. We’re not falling now.” Entire body burning in pain and exhaustion, Tubbo gripped into the netherrack and searched the space above him for a naturally formed crevice he could fit his fingers into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spotting one, Tubbo moved his leg up at the same time as his right arm, finding places for them both. He attempted to continue to move, but when his left leg left its hold his hand didn’t, instead staying stuck in the small crack Tubbo had forced his way into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, come on,” Tubbo ordered, yanking at his arm. A sharp, hoarse yelp left his lips as he felt a crack echo up his hand, but his hand was out, and so Tubbo bit back the waves of pain that rocketed through his arm and jammed his hand in the next hold, pulling his body upward once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The edge was so close, but just out of reach. Tubbo gasped for a clear breath of air, but was only met with the same heavy pressure on his chest that the heat of the Nether provided. He stretched up, but missed the edge by mere inches. His bloody fingers hit against the side of the cliff, searching for a crack that wasn’t there. There were no more holds in the material, only smooth netherrack that would have to be forcibly broken to get a hold in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo wanted to cry, exhaustion steering his thoughts. His fingers trembled with a quickly weakening, and it was dull fear alone that kept Tubbo up against the wall, barely able to think through the pain that seemed to be hitting his body from all sides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had to get up over this cliffside. And there was only one piece of netherrack keeping him from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Tubbo folded his bloody, swollen hand into a fist and hurled it at the netherrack with all his strength, pushing his fist into the material again and again, hysteria making his movements sloppy. Dry sobs heaved from his chest as his feet threatened to slip from their holds, but he continued his movement, punching the netherrack until there was a space large enough that Tubbo could slam his hand down on it and pull his body over the edge. He collapsed on a stretch of netherrack, body burning, every muscle in his body trembling. Lying down, with his head turned weakly to the side, Tubbo retched, exertion catching up to his system, though he had long since used up every bit of fuel he had left in him, and so it only left him curled in on himself, shaking as he waited for the nausea and tremors to subside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he could, Tubbo pulled his hands in front of him, squinting through the sweat in his eyes to focus on his fingers. They were bloody, the skin broken where the makeshift grips hadn’t protected his fingertips. The skin looked the same shade as the netherrack that Tubbo was laying upon, and it all blurred together if he stopped focusing for a second. He tried to move his fingers, next, to start the process of placing his hand on the ground to push himself up to sitting, and then to stand, to look around and find his way out of this hellscape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, white hot pain coursed through his joints, and Tubbo bit his lip hard enough that blood filled his mouth as he choked down a scream of pain. Breathing heavily, he tried again, moving the fingers one by one this time, carefully examining them as he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thumbs were both fine, but on his left hand, his fourth and fifth fingers were swollen, and pointed in a crooked direction that made Tubbo’s stomach turn to look at. On his right hand, the same was true for his third and fifth finger. They were certainly broken, and even the slightest twitch sent a new wave of pain signals screeching through Tubbo’s brain, rendering those joints useless for the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had to stand. He had to move, he knew that the surface of the nether was not a place to take a leisurely nap upon, and he was pretty sure he had long since used up all his luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden wail of a ghast testified to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sounds of flame and fire rocketed through the air, growing closer, and Tubbo yelped as the heat grew insurmountably closer. He barely managed to tuck his arms close to his chest and roll to the side, only to be jolted backwards when the tremors of the explosion sent him tumbling across the ground, slamming his back into some small pile of material. Tubbo collapsed with another groan, weakly flickering his eyes open. The ghast hovered above him, its mournful eyes looked down on him with false pity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s body moved on its own, fresh adrenaline taking the place of his quickly crumbling resolve. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the way his fingers screamed at being pressed into the ground to push himself upward, and he ran, feet burning as they slammed against the red material beneath him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twitched his head behind him upon hearing the echoing screech of the flying creature, and instantly spotted the next fireball, blazing a path straight to him. Tubbo inhaled sharply, his throat burned with the effort, and threw himself to the side. The heat of the projectile raced along his arm, and Tubbo’s skin felt feverishly hot as he flung himself through the air to escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood burst in his mouth as the side of his face slammed against something slightly cooler and his body crumpled to the ground. Everything hurt. Tubbo had a feeling that one more hit, maybe even the slightest touch would be enough to do him in permanently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He struggled to lift his head. In front of his eyes was a stretch of cobblestone slabs, and further down, at the edge of his blurry vision, was a mass of glowing purple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo tried to move, but his body betrayed him, and his limbs felt out of his control, deadened by pure exhaustion as the adrenaline ebbed away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes began to shut again. The heat settled over him like a suffocating blanket, keeping him pinned to the ground, holding him close as he slipped away from himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice bordered on the edge of familiarity. Tubbo frowned at it, keeping his eyes closed. “What- who’s there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo.” And the voice was deep, familiar and comforting in a way Tubbo hadn’t heard in a long time. “I can feel a space growing for you here. You- I think it’s almost your time, Tubbo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur?” Tubbo slurred, struggling against heavy eyelids. “You’re- aren’t you dead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I am.” Wilbur spoke his next words with hesitation. “And I think you’re about to be, Tubbo. Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready for what?” Tubbo muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Death, Tubbo. I’ve never done this before, but I felt a pull, like the barrier between this world and the next was weakening. I’m pretty certain I’m here to take you to the afterlife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t fear that gripped Tubbo’s heart, nor calm acceptance. It was something else entirely, becaues he had not scaled a whole fucking cliff just to die fifteen feet from the overworld. He had not figured his way out of that ravine on his own just to perish before getting Tommy back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piss off, big man,” he said, blood dripping from his mouth and sizzling on the  netherrack beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Wilbur almost sounded like he was laughing, and Tubbo’s stomach clenched, memories of brighter days and easy laughter reminding him of better times. “What d’you mean, piss off. Tubbo, you’re dying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not,” Tubbo lied, pressing the heel of his palm into the stone to lever himself upward. The portal swirled at the end of the path, and it was almost too dizzying to look at. “I’m not dying, Wilbur, I’m fine, so either piss off or- or- I don’t know, shout at me to keep me moving.” His voice was barely a rasp, damaged by screams and hours without water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s voice swirled around him as Tubbo limped to the portal, bloody jaw set in determination. “How’d you even get like this?” One of his boots had been lost in escaping from the ghast, and every step felt like walking across hot coals, searing the bottom of his foot. “What the hell happened to you, Tubbster?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave of dizziness set out to tip Tubbo over, and he groaned as his bad leg wobbled, threatening to give out. There was a pressure on his side, and it kept him upright. When Tubbo tipped his head to see what had kept him propped up, there was only empty air. “Have to get Tommy back,” he whispered hoarsely. “Can’t die, Wilbur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy? What’s this got to do with Tommy? What’s happened to him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talking hurt too much, it took far too much effort. The portal was only a few feet away now, a few more steps. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out but a pained wheeze. “Wilbur…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo?” Suddenly, Wilbur’s voice was filled with fear, and his voice sounded further away. “Tubbo, wait, what’s happening? Something’s happening…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got no answer. The bloody, brown haired boy fell through the portal, and collapsed into the snow on the other side.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next time: what happened to wilbur?<br/>comments and kudos are so so appreciated thank you all for reading!<br/>find me on twitter @sbimellohi im pretty active and would love to chat :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Larazus, Come Forth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is not the chapter where you find out what happened to Tubbo.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And now, for something completely different.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sam?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The only sound that followed was the scraping of metal on stone as the prison warden pushed the tray of food across the boundary of the cell door. Sam stayed, though, lingering by the cell door.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy looked at the meager meal, and his stomach grumbled. The baked potato was looking more appetizing than ever, and the water bottle made his aching throat cry out, but Tommy didn’t move. What was it called? Right, a hunger strike. That’s what he was doing. He could go ages without food, and he would again, until Dream brought him proof that Tubbo was alive. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why are you doing this, Sam?” This wasn’t the first time he had asked the question, and Tommy knew what answer he was going to receive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m the warden of this prison. I keep watch over the prisoners.” The mask over Sam’s face gave nothing away, and his tone held no emotion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy wanted to scream, but his throat hurt far too much. He shivered, but said nothing about it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had loudly complained to Dream, on his first visit, that it was far too cold in the cell. And Dream had started a fire to warm him up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The burns still lingered, blazing bright in pain at every movement. At least the chains had been taken off. Small mercies. A small kindness.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy dropped his head to his knees, and listened to Sam walk off. His burns chafed. His eyes were far too dry to cry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He shivered. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air was unusually still, Phil reflected, as he and Eret walked again toward the altar created for the forthcoming resurrection. It felt hesitant, like everyone was at once holding their breath in anticipation, or maybe fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something happening today?” Phil questioned, mildly peeved at the way he had to tilt his head up to see Eret’s face. Ranboo’s height Phil was used to, as it was natural and expected at this point, but the difference between Eret and himself was exaggerated by the absurdly tall platform boots she was wearing, which stomped against the stone as they traversed the rim of the crater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eret stopped, looking at Phil with a slight frown. The expression in their eyes was obscured by the sunglasses he wore, but the crease in her forehead and the tightness of her shoulders told Phil enough. “Do you not know?” they asked, voice a deep rumble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Know what?” Phil asked, brow wrinkling in confusion. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- Phil.” Eret’s voice had a hint of exasperation to it, like Phil should have already been aware. “Tommy and Tubbo left today to face Dream, to go and get Tommy’s discs back. They’ve been preparing for the past week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Phil couldn’t help the surprised laugh that left his lips. “So that’s all this seriousness is for? Tommy’s stupid discs?” He laughed again, fully expecting Eret to join in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king hummed, not looking amused in the slightest, and the laughter died in Phil’s throat. “Those discs have more history within this land than you do, Philza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annoyance flickered across Phil’s face. “I mean, I get that they’ve been around and changed hands several times, but they’re only discs. If Tommy really wanted to listen to Mellohi, he could go searching for a new one, hell, even steal someone else’s copy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not about the content of the discs. You’re right, on that front, however…” The wind caught under Eret’s cape, ruffling the hair under their crown. “The dawn of the day you joined the server, I attempted to make amends and join Pogtopia’s side and assist them in their rebellion. When Dream found out, he was firmly against it. He forced me to step down as king, to give up my crown and my throne, and he passed it along to his friend. I was forced out of the castle, my home that I had built by hand, because I made a decision Dream wasn’t happy with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil shrugged. “Alright, I mean, you got it back in the end, didn’t you? What’s your point?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My point is that I didn’t fight back against Dream. I didn’t feel like I could. He said the right words, twisted the rights strings, and I was out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Phil prompted, waiting for him to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These discs of Tommy’s, they’ve passed hands multiple times </span>
  <em>
    <span>because </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tommy, and Tubbo, refuse to just let Dream take what he wants from them.” A soft white glow pulsed around the edges of Eret’s sunglasses. “Does that make more sense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they’re just discs,” Phil responded weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small smile Eret gave Phil almost felt pitying. “Alright. Discs aside, I suppose the other reason everyone is concerned is because the two of them are on their last lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heavy reminder settled in Phil’s gut, a sinking stone he tried to push aside. “Well- you said they both prepared heavily, didn’t you? I mean, Techno told me he caught Tommy stealing from him, so that’s- something,” he tried to justify, in a weak attempt to save his own conscience. “It’s two against one, and Tubbo and Tommy are both good- decent fighters. Better than average, I’d argue.” Phil remembered Techno telling him of his brief encounter with Tommy the other day, and the conflicted look on the half-piglin’s face that Phil had moved off his friend’s mind with a call to keep working on their syndicate project, barely giving it a moment of thought himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a normal fight, I’d agree that the odds would be heavily in their favor,” Eret conceded. “But I think it depends heavily on whether Dream can actually be killed in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil blinked. “What? What d’you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eret’s lips pressed in a thin line, worry clear in his face. “No one really knows if it’s possible. Those two will be the first to find out, one way or another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Emotions clouded Phil’s head, too heavy and complicated for him to ever want to make sense of, so he pushed it aside. “Well, one thing at a time, I suppose. Come on, let’s go find Ghostbur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel Eret’s eyes on the back of his neck as he set off at a brisk pace, that obvious subject change hanging heavy in the air. Eret said nothing about it, though Phil could hear the reluctance in their tone as they switched to occasional, harmless small talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found Ghostbur hanging out by the altar, and Phil breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge he wouldn’t have to walk alone with Eret anymore. Ghostbur waved brightly upon seeing Phil, though there was quite a bit of nervousness on his face. “Hi Phil!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hiya, mate,” Phil said. He placed an ender chest down, and drew out the Totem of Undying, looking over the gemstone eyes and golden, shimmering body. “You alright to do this again? I know you got a little upset last time, so I wanted to check in with you beforehand this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur’s blue-stained hands were shaky as he took the totem from Phil’s grasp. “It’s alright, Phil! We can try again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Phil withdrew the enchanted diamond sword that had only ever been used on his son. “You start, yeah? We’ll go through the lines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meaning behind his words had dulled after the many repetitions of failed resurrections, and so there was no longer any tremor in his voice when he questioned the shadow form of his kid or when he announced their relation to the wider world. The process only slowed when he approached Ghostbur with the sword, catching sight of the fresh fear in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” Phil whispered. Ghostbur, crumpled around Friend, gripped the totem tight in his hands and said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no apologies as Phil ran the sword through Ghostbur’s partially translucent form, and pulled it away with fresh blue stains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur cried out, loudly, body jerking in place. He squeezed the totem tight with both his hands, and Phil took several cautionary steps back as it began to glow. With his free hand, he shielded his eyes as a blinding golden light filled the air. There was a long, loud scream, and then there were two, twin voices intertwining in hoarse cries of excruciating pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Phil could look past his fingers without being immediately blinded again, the sword fell from his shaking hands, clattering on the pavement. Next to him, Eret took off his sunglasses, blinking his pure white eyes in utter disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was success, it was failure, Phil wasn’t sure and he was entirely frozen in grief, in joy, in horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eret recovered quicker, slamming his sunglasses back over their eyes and marching past Phil to the two crumpled forms, one of which was being nudged at by Friend. “The totem only saved him - them - from dying, they need healing,” he demanded. “Phil, do you have gapples? Potions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- uh- Gaps, yes, potions, no,” Phil stammered, body moving before his raging mind could protest. He sunk to the ground at the top of the altar, unable to tear his eyes away from the two nearly identical bodies in front of him</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first was the form Phil had gotten used to seeing. Yellow sweater, gray skin, hands stained with blue. Friend pushed at Ghostbur’s neck, bleating quietly. Phil pushed his golden apples into Eret’s hands, leaving his own hands free to examine the unmoving form of his son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was in the trenchcoat he had been wearing when he died, stained with dried blood and messily patched from months without care. His greasy hair flopped heavily over one eye, and there was blood coating his front from where Phil had just run him - both of them? - through with the sword that lay abandoned at the foot of the altar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Wilbur stirred, groaning as he attempted to sit up. His mouth opened and Phil was more than confused to hear his son whisper, “Tubbo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eret, having already coaxed Ghostbur to lean against Friend and eat a golden apple, moved to Wilbur next. Phil was certain that Eret’s bewildered expression matched his own as the two of them struggled to comprehend the seemingly impossible outcome of this situation. “Here,” Eret murmured, pressing the fruit into Wilbur’s hand. “You need to eat this, and heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wil, do you-” Phil wasn’t even sure where to begin. “What do you- how did-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s eyes flicked open, and even through bloodied exhaustion, Phil caught the glare he pinned to Eret. Moving one arm only, Wilbur reluctantly gripped the apple and pressed it to his lips, biting down on the fruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be mean to Eret,” Ghostbur quietly reprimanded, having also caught that firce glare. His voice was muffled where he pressed his face into Friend’s wooly coat, slowly regaining health as the absorption worked through his system. “He’s helping revive me, don’t be mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be mean to whoever deserves it, you-” Wilbur’s voice died as he actually looked at his shadow of a twin next to him. “Wait, you- that’s me. You’re me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello! I’m Ghostbur,” the specter said with as much cheer as he could muster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ghostbur?” Wilbur sounded dumbfounded, incredulous, and Phil couldn’t fault him in the slightest. “What- what is this weird gray version of me? What the hell is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- we don’t know,” Phil began honestly, and when Wilbur’s gaze shot to him, Phil felt his breath catch in his throat, unused to the look in his son’s eyes being one of furious coherence instead of bland naivete. “This is definitely not the outcome we were expecting, I don’t think. We assumed that killing Ghostbur, that this ritual, would bring you back to life, and he would disappear. This- this isn’t in anything that I’ve read.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me either,” Eret confirmed, keeping a distance between him and Wilbur.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why I’m here either,” Ghostbur said, smiling toothily at Wilbur, who only looked back at him in vague disgust. “I thought I was going to disappear too, I almost did, but something’s keeping me here! I’m stuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- literally?” Phil asked, mildly horrified. “You can’t move?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur’s laugh was an echo. “No, Phil. I just mean here, on this earth. I can’t move on yet. I tried, I really did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So now there’s two of us,” Wilbur said. He had sat up by now, crossing his legs under him and leaning the side of his head on his hand. “Great job, you two!” His sarcasm was biting. “Did it ever occur to you guys that I didn’t want to be brought back? That I was perfectly fine staying dead, away where I don’t- where no one could-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Ghostbur was pretty insistent on it at the time,” Eret murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well clearly, we’re not the same fucking person. We can’t even inhabit the same body!” Wilbur fired back. He groaned, pressing his fingers at the side of his head like he was fighting off a headache. “Prime, and now I can’t go back, can I? Can’t just fucking kill myself right now, even though you yanked me back here at a really bad time!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is now a bad time?” Phil asked instead of addressing the first half of that sentence. An idea of the answer was already forming in his mind. “Does it have to do with- right, you woke up saying Tubbo’s name, is that part of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, because he was about to bloody die, Phil! That’s probably the only reason this whole thing worked in the first place, because the- the fucking veil or whatever was so thin!” Wilbur’s frantic rambling reminded Phil all too much of the scene he had played out with Ghostbur minutes before this, the actual memory of that day. It made his skin crawl, and he had to fight the urge to keep from drawing his sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eret let out a choked noise. “Tubbo’s dying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well he seemed pretty insistent on not, but it’s not like he has very much control in the end, does he? I was supposed to guide him, I’m pretty sure, but instead I was ripped out here, and now I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he’s dying, then Tommy can’t be far behind,” Eret said, face drained of all color. “So they didn’t succeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s blood ran cold, and a small part of him screamed in furious rage, in damning grief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur made a small, sad, noise. “Tommy?” He spoke at the same time as Wilbur, an echo of each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy and Tubbo left to fight Dream today,” Phil said, his voice carefully emotionless. “We don’t… we don’t know anything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean you don’t know anything else?” Wilbur was nearly shouting now. “I’ll tell you what I know, there’s a start. Tommy’s somewhere Tubbo can’t find him, and Tubbo’s nearly dead, or he already is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eret spoke up again. “So, Dream’s done something to Tommy, then, taken him somewhere. He’s the only one who would do something like that. And that…” he trailed off, briefly. “Well, I feel like it’d be redundant to say that that’s not good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Wilbur spat, fury in his eyes. “No shit, Eret.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe Dream took Tommy on another vacation!” Ghostbur said optimistically. “We should go back to Logstedshire, and be Lads on Tour again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur looked at Phil with a bewildered expression. “What the fuck is he saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ghostbur, no, we’re not going back there.” Ghostbur sagged, and stuck his tongue out at Phil, who only sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you go back there?” Wilbur asked, far too sweetly. “You can go check it out for us, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay! I’ll go find Tommy and we’ll be Lads on Tour! Lads on Tour!” Ghostbur untied Friend from the fence post, and before Phil could say anything, began to skip away, singing quietly as he did so. “I heard there was a special place…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur,” Phil reprimanded sharply. “You can’t just do that, mate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure I just did,” Wilbur said coolly. “Come on, Phil, he was freaking me out! What, how would you like to stare at a weird ghost version of yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil didn’t even like to meet his own reflection most days. Still, “There had to have been a better way than sending him off into the wilderness, Wil, last time Dream did that Ghostbur nearly faded away!” Phil exhaled, and felt the familiar weight of responsibility bear down on his shoulders. He hadn’t missed it. “It’s fine. I’ll go out and fetch him once we get you somewhere safe. Which, given everything, is probably going to be Techno’s place for the time being.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eret got the message. “Right. Farewell, gentlemen. Wilbur, it’s…” they hesitated. “I’m glad Phil got his son back,” she decided upon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur watched Eret go with suspicion in his eyes. “How is Techno?” Wilbur asked after a stretch of silence. Without words exchanged, Phil helped Wilbur up, letting the much taller man lean on him as they began to exit the ritual room. “I haven’t talked to him in a… since…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much do you remember, Wil?” Phil prompted gently, realizing too late that they were walking along the path that curved the jagged rim of the crater, and Wilbur wasn’t looking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember… We lost the election. After that, it’s just- flashes, I thought they were nightmares, but now-” Wilbur’s eyes flashed with fear, and sweat was gathering on his brow. “I did this?” His voice was a choked whisper, thick with grief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s lips set in a thin line. “No. They rebuilt after what you did. For a while, I think it was good. It could have stayed good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who did this, Phil.” Wilbur’s voice shook, though whether it was with rage or sorrow, Phil couldn’t tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited until they were a bit further away from the edge to give him the reluctant, but honest, answer. “It was a temporary alliance between Techno, Dream, and myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s legs gave out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit-” Phil half-dragged him against a charred stump of a tree that had burned some time ago, propping him against the ashy wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- Phil?” Wilbur’s eyes shone with hurt and slowly rising fury. “I thought- you killed me, didn’t you? That’s not a nightmare. You killed me, you saved L’manburg from further destruction, how could you have a hand in its destruction. With Dream? I- Techno, I can understand, but you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil frowned, unable to meet his son’s eyes. “I don’t think you know me as well as you think you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearly.” Wilbur’s voice broke at the latter syllable, and his eyes searched for further understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s keep walking,” Phil said. Wilbur’s arm was far more tense around his shoulder. “Listen, Wilbur, the government had become too corrupt. It needed to be destroyed, we needed to send a message. Teach them a lesson.” His voice was full of conviction, and he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so you decided to side with Dream?” Wilbur kept trying to turn, and look back at the crater, but Phil barely gave him time. “You were listening, right, when we were talking about how Dream has Tommy somewhere we don’t know about and has probably killed Tubbo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aligning ourselves briefly with Dream was never permanent, Wilbur,” Phil tried to soothe. “And whatever Dream’s issue with L’manburg was -- I’m fairly certain that it’s entirely separate from this whole disc thing with Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s laugh in response caused Phil to freeze where he stood. The light laugh that Phil remembered from a young child running around the woods was long gone, replaced with a sardonic, bitter chuckle. “Then you, Phil, are an even bigger idiot than I could’ve imagined. L’manburg and Tommy’s discs have been intertwined since day fucking one. I don’t know how Dream got both discs again, but I’m sure once he got them that was his cue to go and destroy L’manburg, once Tommy had nothing to stop him with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil threw his free hand in the air, exasperated and quickly growing annoyed. “Right, explain, please, how the fuck is it that these discs are so fucking important, I just- I don’t get it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur fixed him with a cold gaze, and Phil felt his annoyance shrivel in his chest. “I don’t think you would understand unless you had been around since the beginning of it all, Phil. I don’t think you’ll understand if I tried to explain it for you. If I laid it out, bit by bit of all the parts I remember, I still think that you wouldn’t get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try me,” Phil said, determined, near desperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur shrugged Phil’s supporting arm off him, only swaying slightly as he began to walk to the portal again. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh- what d’you mean, no.” Phil followed Wilbur up the steps and through the portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Tommy is dead, or gone, then the discs truly don’t matter. Then you don’t have to worry about it. Or him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil frowned. “That’s not fair, Wil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it? From what I’ve gathered so far, I don’t think anything’s changed.” Wilbur’s tone was bitter, pointed. “So much for that promise, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil flinched, clenching his fists at his sides to hide the way they shook, though he knew Wilbur saw. Truthfully, Phil had forgotten that promise until the very moment Wibur showed up alive again. It felt like decades ago, though he gathered that from the state of Wilbur’s memory it was much more recent. “I know,” he admitted. “It’s just- Wil, Techno needed my help, I couldn’t just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t spare the time to make up with him when your old friend needed help. Couldn’t be around to help him when there were more exciting quests. I get it, Phil.” Bitterness intertwined with years of resignation and buried anger. “Not exactly a new pattern for you. Some things might’ve changed, but you sure haven’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s face burned with shame, hotter than the heat of the Nether. He had promised, given Wilbur his word that if he ever visited them in the Dream SMP, that he’d try and fix things with Tommy, repair what had caused Tommy to run off for so many years before Wilbur found him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he never visited. Not until the day he had killed his oldest son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, Tommy was dead, or at the very least, missing again, and Phil had undoubtedly failed to keep his promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get him back, Wil,” Phil said. Guilt fueled his words, and lingered on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I plan to,” Wilbur said simply. “But don’t think that helping me with this is enough to absolve you of what you did. It isn’t going to really fix anything, and if you’re only saying that to try and rid yourself of that guilt, then I’d much prefer it if you stayed out of the fucking way. You’re good at that, right? Staying out of the picture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s chest felt too tight, as if there was a vice clamping down against his ribs. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was hurting. He needed to heal. Nothing Phil said would be helpful right now, and so he held himself back from delivering apologies that Wilbur would look right through. But after several minutes of walking along the cobblestone path, the silence grew too much for him. “Wilbur, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil, stop. Phil-” Wilbur didn’t speak to dismiss any flimsy attempt at apology Phil could have tried to say, though privately Phil was glad he had. His sharp tone and raised arm instead drew Phil’s attention to the last stretch of cobblestone path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was splattered in drying blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Phil breathed, Wilbur at his side as they stepped forward to examine the congealing blood on the side of the cobblestone. It splattered at the edges, then moved, and Phil could just make out one bloody footprint, heading toward the portal. “Someone’s hurt, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo,” Wilbur breathed, pulled Phil with him along the path and through the portal. Phil didn’t question how he knew, far more concerned with just finding the source of the blood, whoever it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil didn’t flinch when the cold hit him, but Wilbur did, immediately starting to shiver as the freezing wind set into his frail frame. “Look,” Phil murmured, forehead wrinkling in concern. Beneath the steps of the since-repaired ruined portal was an indent soaked with more bloodstained snow, slowly covered by the fresh flakes falling from the sky. Phil knelt down, pushing his hands through the snow, but found nothing but more frozen blood. He cursed, standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, there.” Wilbur nudged Phil’s arm, and Phil saw a new set of footprints, walking away from the portal. No longer were there bloody footprints, only sturdy boots with long strides, strides of someone much taller than Tubbo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s eyebrows rose, and he nodded. “Come on. I bet I know where he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Previous quarrels pushed aside for the moment, the two of them hurried off into the snow.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next time: (almost) everyone together in the snow<br/>thanks for reading! comments and kudos are so appreciated &lt;3<br/>find me on twitter @sbimellohi :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. All the Preparations in the World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ranboo has a plan for today. He does not ever get to go through with that plan. Something comes up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sam tells me you’re not eating.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy’s head spun, the mining fatigue and lack of water causing his head to pound. “Yeah. I’m on a hunger strike, bitch.” His throat hurt, he almost didn’t want to speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream radiated fury as he stepped into the cell, and Tommy wanted to cringe away, press himself into the obsidian blocks until he became a part of it, forever trapped but also safe, contained within where no one could ever reach him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you now?” There was a water bottle in Dream’s right hand, and Tommy couldn’t stop staring at it. “And what are you trying to get out of this hunger strike?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tell me where Tubbo is. I need to know he’s alive, otherwise I’m not gonna- yeah. Fuck you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, Tommy,” Tommy hated the way Dream said his name, soft, mocking, and smug. His defiant glare crumbled slowly as Dream continued to speak, pulling apart the shell of anger he had encased his heart in. “Pawns can’t move on their own, without direction. Tubbo is dead, Tommy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy’s chest caved in, his stomach hollowed, and his mind raged in weary disbelief.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I found him just outside the nether portal. He didn’t even make it a chunk out before dying.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Tommy whispered. “No, you’re lying, you- where’s Tubbo! Where is he? Don't you fucking lie to me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not lying,” Dream said gently, almost sounding genuinely sad as he spoke. Tommy’s mind spun. He could be, Dream would lie to him, but would he? Dream was his friend no he wasn’t he’s lying he’s lying is he?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re lying,” Tommy said again, weakly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t care whether you believe me or not, Tommy, but this dumb hunger strike needs to end.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grief stuck in Tommy’s throat, and he felt like if he had to swallow something right now, it wouldn’t make it all the way down. “Fuck- fuck off, you green bastard-!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In a flash, Dream knocked his legs out from under him and brought his weak form to the floor. Tommy groaned, upper half pulled upright by Dream’s hand. The water bottle was uncorked, and brought to Tommy’s lips.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Tommy snarled, slapping the water bottle with one hand, spilling a quarter of the bottle down his front. “Fuck off, stop it-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m just trying to help you, Tommy,” Dream said soothingly. His voice hurt Tommy’s ears, too soft against his harsh, painful movements. Water trickled down Tommy’s throat, and cooling the raw, painful space that Tommy had dealt with for the past several days.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy barely managed to keep from choking on the water, and as the water entered his system, he finally had the means again to cry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranboo adjusted the straps of his armor, checking his inventory to make sure all his tools were in the proper spot. His ender chest had all the emeralds, he had his memory books, and there was still space left over for any extra materials he might find. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today was a day to journey and find a new village. Or go netherite mining. Or just explore, honestly, Ranboo wasn’t picky. He just needed something to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting in his house all day was suffocating, and he was running out of chores and projects to do before he started encroaching on Phil and Techno’s house, and he didn’t want to cross that boundary. His cows were fed, his crops were somehow flourishing in the cold, and his pets were happy. And Ranboo was ready to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, maybe if he got far enough away, the haunting melodies of Mellohi wouldn’t reach his ears. Maybe his body wouldn’t be pulled, like a moth to a flame, to the obsidian room on the side of the hill. Maybe he would remember more than he was forgetting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The humming from the beehives faded in the distance as Ranboo set out over the hills toward the portal. He’d nether-travel, he decided, and go some distance before popping out and seeing where he ended up. That’d be fun. A little spontaneity was good for the soul, Ranboo was pretty certain about that one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The excitement that had been budding within him died the instant the portal came into view. Crumpled at the base of the steps was a person, and the green shirt and brown hair was recognizable instantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my gosh, Tubbo?” Ranboo’s feet flew over the snow and ice, dropping to his knees in the snow next to Tubbo’s shaking body. His hands hovered frantically over the teen’s body, already horrified at the amount of blood and injuries he was seeing. Gingerly, he pressed his hand to Tubbo’s shoulder, gripping it lightly to roll him over and get his face out of the snow. “Oh, crap, please be breathing, please don’t be dead.” Tubbo’s pulse was far faster than it should be, his rapid breathing left his bloody lips in quick puffs. His whole body shook, trembling silent in the cold. Ranboo brushed snow off of Tubbo’s face, hands shaking at the sight of the blood that had soaked into the snow underneath Tubbo at various spots, one in particular being from a gash in the side of his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo exhaled loudly in relief when Tubbo twitched, lips moving soundlessly at first, and then a scratchy, hoarse, whisper. “Memory boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, hey,” Ranboo swallowed against the panic that jumped in his throat. “Tubbo, man, what happened to you?” He flicked his head to the portal, fully expecting Tubbo’s counterpart to come bursting out at any moment. “Where’s- where’s Tommy, what happened?” He remembered seeing them off before they left, the two of them had been in full netherite, stacked with potions and golden apples. They had looked confident, self-assured, and prepared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, Tubbo looked mere seconds away from losing his final life, and that scared Ranboo more than anything in this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help.” The voice was barely audible. Tubbo’s hands twitched, and his face seized in pain. Ranboo looked down at his friend’s hands, and felt sick as he noticed the crooked, bloody joints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, questions- questions later, you need-” Ranboo searched his inventory, and found nothing useful. “I don’t have any healing potions, Tubbo, are you-” Gingerly, Ranboo checked Tubbo’s middle area, looking for any deadly wounds. The worst injuries from a quick examination seemed to be the fingers and some deep cuts, but nothing looked like they were going to immediately kill him, so Ranboo allowed himself a slight sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Prime, you aren’t like- stabbed, or something, that’s, well this still isn’t good, but it could be a lot worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy,” Tubbo rasped. His voice sounded so dry, cracking hoarsely at every sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s not good,” Ranboo said, internally berating himself for stating the obvious. “Alright, I need to- I need to get you out of the snow, that’s the first step. First step. Can you walk- nope, I’m going to pick you up, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo groaned wordlessly, tipping his head toward Ranboo with closed eyes. Ranboo took that as permission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem, Ranboo found immediately, was that he was not strong enough to pick up Tubbo. It wasn’t really that Tubbo was heavy, but Ranboo knew his arms were pretty much sticks and he did not want to risk his arms giving out and dropping his heavily injured friend in the snow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, uh, I’m going to sit you up, and- we’re going to try carrying you on my back,” Ranboo spoke loudly, figuring that keeping Tubbo awake would be the best thing to do right now. “If- if that doesn’t work, then I’m going to message Phil or Techno in a panic, because I don’t know where either of them are, and- and- okay, okay.” Ranboo took a slow breath, keeping Tubbo upright with both his hands. Tubbo seemed to look straight through him, half-open eyes glazed over with pain and exhaustion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R’nboo?” Tubbo slurred, one shaking arm raising slightly from the ground as Ranboo began to turn around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, yeah, Tubbo, okay, um, lean on my back, okay? Can you- yeah, hands over my shoulders, like, like that.” It was difficult, and awkward, and Ranboo was so, so afraid that Tubbo wouldn’t have the coherence to hold on. But Ranboo’s arms gripped underneath Tubbo’s knees tightly, and the shorter boy slumped against his back with his arms wrapped around Ranboo’s front. The way the arms crossed, they dug into Ranboo’s neck, but the enderman hybrid ignored the light pressure in favor of aiding Tubbo with his much more dire discomforts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Tubbo was secured, Ranboo began the trek back to the house. It was slow going, as Ranboo did not want to risk running across the hills carelessly and hurting Tubbo even further. He moved steadily, even when his armor began to pinch in his skin and he had to adjust to carry even more of Tubbo’s trembling weight as the teen leaned heavily on Ranboo’s back and arms. He tried to keep up a one-sided conversation as he did, anxiously rambling about nothing and everything, whatever he could to keep Tubbo as awake as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chimney of Technoblade’s cabin came into view, and Ranboo found he had a decision to make. Techno had the medical supplies, Ranboo knew that much from the time he had walked into Techno’s house and saw the man stitching up a deep cut in his forearm with a medical kit open next to him. Ranboo had immediately awkwardly retreated, and the encounter hadn’t been brought up since. So, there were certainly medical supplies. But Ranboo was pretty certain that Techno barely tolerated him in the first place, let alone the former president of the country he had recently destroyed. There was no way he could put Tubbo in there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s head lolled against his shoulder, the shakes slowly subsiding. Ranboo didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing, so he picked up the pace ever so slightly, shifting left to carry Tubbo into his open air house, which really was nothing more than a roof held up by matching spruce fences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay! Once we get Tubbo downstairs, we can go and borrow the supplies from Techno. Hopefully he won’t mind. We’ll replace what we use, uh, somehow, ” Ranboo said, now talking to himself more than anything. It was clear Tubbo wasn’t conscious the moment Ranboo stopped moving and Tubbo began to slide down his back. Ranboo bent his knees, barely able to catch Tubbo’s weight with a slight groan and set him on the grass. Leaving him there briefly, Ranboo pulled his shovel from his inventory and easily broke away the dirt above his comfort room, creating a makeshift staircase to half carry, half pull Tubbo down into the small, netherrack-crafted space. He placed his friend down on his bed in there, ignoring how blood and snow soaked into the sheets. “I’ll be right back, Tubbo. Don’t move.” The words, half-joking, fell from his mouth before he could think about what he was saying, and Ranboo again berated himself as he hurried up to the surface. The hybrid pig had left earlier that day, and Ranboo had seen no sign of his return since, so he didn’t pause before entering the cabin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The homely space was far quieter now that Edward had died, and Ranboo felt a brief pang of grief pass through him before he was moving toward the chests, opening them up to search. None of the chests on the ground floor yielded the materials Ranboo was searching for, so, biting his cheek, he turned and scaled the ladder to Techno’s room. “It’s fine, it’s fine, he won’t mind. It’s an emergency, only the emergency has to do with the former president of L’manburg, so maybe he will mind. But, that’s a problem for a later day, I’ll… I’ll take my chances being evicted if it means Tubbo doesn’t die.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amidst his ramblings, Ranboo found the medical kit tucked under Techno’s bed, and extracted it with a victorious grin. Tucking it under his arm, Ranboo slid down the ladder and left Techno’s house, sprinting right back to his small shack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo?” he called as he entered the netherrack space. “Tubbo, hey, man, you any more awake?” He stepped across the cool netherrack toward the bed, eyebrows raising when he saw Tubbo staring wide-eyed and terrified at the red wall to his left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nh, no,” he muttered, blood dripping from the corner of his lips. “No, I made, made it to the portal, didn’t I? It was cold, but- but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo,” Ranboo said quietly, kneeling down at the side of the bed and opening the medical kit. Panic clawed at his throat as his eyes flicked between the contents of the container and Tubbo’s injuries; he wasn’t even sure where to begin. There were bruises, cuts, burns, blood. Ranboo picked up a potion of healing in his hand, apprehensive to apply magic to Tubbo so soon, wary of the consequences that could come from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I wish Phil was here,” he said, half to himself. “He’d know what to do, wouldn’t he? Or, Techno would too, probably, he’d at least know more than me. I really just feel useless with this stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo tipped his head toward Ranboo, mouth moving a few times before Ranboo could make out the word. “Water,” he whispered. “Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crap, right, yeah, water.” Ranboo had never regretted his system of chest organization until this moment, as he tore through them to find the water bottle he knew he had left in one of them the other day. “Okay, found one, uh, yeah, here.” He uncorked the slightly dusty bottle, and brought it over to Tubbo. The injured teen propped himself up on one shaking elbow, and Ranboo’s hands guided the bottle so the water went down easily, and when Tubbo laid back down, it was to a long, relieved exhale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, prime, thank you,” Tubbo murmured, eyes slightly more coherent now. His voice was still incredibly hoarse, but it didn’t seem to pain him as much to speak. “Where are we, Ranboo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This, uh, is my comfort room!” Ranboo exclaimed, voice wilting slightly as Tubbo clearly failed to experience the same level of comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not… in the Nether, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I… found you outside the portal, and I brought you back here. This is a space under my house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Tubbo’s face was still tight with pain as he spoke, and Ranboo looked to the medical kit, grasping a pad of gauze like he knew what to do with it. “I’ve never been to your house, Ranboo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I know, yeah. I’m a bit far out from- from you.” Ranboo stuttered, still looking at the bandages and healing ointment without a clue where to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-Ranboo.” Tubbo’s voice sounded kind, patient, and Ranboo had no clue how he could be speaking so softly with all the injuries scattered like the world’s worst patchwork quilt across his body. “Can you help me treat the cuts on my shoulder, and, um, my cheek, first? I think that hurts the worst, probably ‘cause I’m talking with it”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right, y-yeah, I can, um.” Ranboo’s heart beat fast with shame as he looked to Tubbo with questions in his unblinking eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I think the snow cleaned most of it out, so you can probably just dab some healing ointment on it and tape some gauze to my face, that should do the trick,” Tubbo instructed, a crooked smile coming from the least injured half of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo nodded firmly, following Tubbo’s words. He went slowly, muttering apologies under his breath every time he touched Tubbo’s face, but the brown-haired teen didn’t react, keeping his face perfectly still as Ranboo applied the melon-scented ointment and carefully placed the gauze over the side of Tubbo’s face. Then he repeated those steps as he bandaged Tubbo’s shoulder, wincing at the deep, blood-crusted gash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you… so calm about this?” he asked at last. His fingers were shaking as he pulled them away from Tubbo’s shoulder once the bandages had been tied. “Doesn’t it hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. I am in excruciating pain right now,” Tubbo said brightly through one half of his mouth. “But when you’ve, you know, been through two wars and also been blown up by fireworks, I think my scale of manageable pain is a bit out of wack, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I- I guess so, I guess I hadn’t really… realized that,” Ranboo said, concern knitting his brows together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We probably should set my fingers next.” Tubbo grimaced. “This is definitely going to hurt the worst. Sorry in advance if I scream, or if you have to redo the bandages up here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s- it’s fine, not your fault you’re so- so injured, just- tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, alright. If I’m honest, the reason I had you bandage my cheek first is because I was avoiding this entirely. Broken bones are not fun at all. Do you have a regen potion in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-” Ranboo glanced down, and caught sight of a deep pink potion. “Yes. Yes I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank prime. This will be a lot easier then. Alright, Ranboo, aside from that you’re going to need to find some sticks, get some bandages, and uh, can I please have more water? My throat is-” Tubbo’s grimaced as he swallowed, face flickering with emotion. “My throat is killing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I can do that.” Ranboo helped Tubbo drink some more water, then found the other materials. Tubbo explained what he was to do, how Ranboo needed to force the bones to straighten, then dab some regeneration potion on it, then bandage the sticks to Tubbo’s fingers as a brace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo was terrified. He was going to get it wrong. His hands were shaking. He was going to screw it up. Tubbo was going to be in pain and it would be his fault and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Tubbo’s voice cut in, raspy but firm. “Hey, come on. I need this regen to work otherwise my hands will be just useless. You’ve got this. I need you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo swallowed tightly, and nodded. “Alright.” He gingerly took Tubbo’s hand in both of his, looking over the two broken fingers carefully. “Ready?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Tubbo said with gritted teeth. “Get it over with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s shoulders jumped as Ranboo realigned both bones best he could, holding them gingerly in one hand while he poured a few drops of regeneration over the fingers. Tying the bandages was difficult with his shaking hands, but soon enough the bandages were secure as Tubbo’s fingers glowed a pale pink, and Ranboo set Tubbo’s left hand back on the bed, nodding in weak satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Tubbo said, voice incredibly strained. Ranboo straightened his back to look over Tubbo, and winced when he saw the tears silently dripping from Tubbo’s eyes, soaking the sheets beneath him. “Onto the next one, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes come on Ranboo get it over with please!” Tubbo’s voice was terse, and Ranboo had no place to blame him. So, only reluctant because of the way Tubbo sniffed back further tears, Ranboo moved to Tubbo’s other side, repeating the same process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tha-thank you, Ranboo. Sorry- s-sorry I had to- to make you do that, man,” Tubbo stammered, chest quickly rising and falling as he worked to catch his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, yeah, it’s- it’s okay, Tubbo. Please, don’t- don’t worry about me. You needed the help, you-- you were really out of it, are you- what the heck happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ranboo,” Tubbo murmured again. Ranboo’s head shot up, just in time to see Tubbo’s eyes slide shut and breathing even out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. Right, you- you probably need some more sleep. I’ll get- I’m sure you’ll tell me later.” Ranboo shut the medical kit and leaned against the sides of his chests, long arms draped over his bent knees. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s fine.” He spoke quietly, though he was certain that his voice wouldn’t wake Tubbo from his exhaustion-laden sleep. “Tubbo is… he’s safe, for now, but Tommy… Tommy isn’t here. That’s, that’s definitely not good, um, considering they went to fight Dream.” Anxiety prickling at his joints, Ranboo got to his feet beginning to pace his comfort room, running his fingertips along the warped material of the netherrack, brushing over the dried mob heads hung on the wall. “But, Dream wouldn’t kill him, would he? That doesn’t- why would Dream tell Tubbo and Tommy to go on that long journey to him, if he was just going to kill them anyways? He could have done it anywhere, but he didn’t, which means… he probably didn’t kill Tommy, so Tommy is still with Dream. Oh, no.” Ranboo came to a standstill, eyes widening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The exile. The weeks Tommy had spent out there, alone, with only Dream to talk to when Ranboo couldn’t. The weeks that Tommy spent getting worse and worse every time Dream had shown up, and Ranboo could do nothing to stop it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, that’s so much worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what can I do? I don’t know where Dream is, and what if I- what if I try to find him, and I hear- and I hear that song, again, what do I do then? I guess- I guess when Tubbo wakes up, he can tell me more. Yeah. There’s nothing I can do right now until Tubbo wakes up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Ranboo didn’t leave, and after a few more minutes of anxious pacing set about taking care of as many of Tubbo’s injuries as he could without waking the teen up. Half guesswork, half deduction, Ranboo found a container of magma cream in the medical kit and applied the foul smelling cream to the bottom of Tubbo’s badly burned foot before wrapping it with a bandage. The other scrapes and cuts that Ranboo could see, Ranboo tried to follow the same pattern he had done for the more serious injuries on Tubbo’s face and shoulder. Clean out the injury with some water if he could, apply some healing ointment to the scrapes and the magma cream to the burns, and wrap a bandage if need be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, the routine movement of his hands steadied them in their trembling, his breathing evened out, and his mind calmed from its whirlwind of terrified, panicked thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo didn’t wake once, only wincing slightly at a few points when Ranboo cleaned out a wound just a touch too harshly or accidentally made too loud a noise. Otherwise, though, he slept, hands tucked up near his chest, legs beginning to curl inward and creating a protective stance to guard his body, even as he slept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the midst of dabbing some ointment on a shallow cut on Tubbo’s forehead, there was a new voice calling out his name. Ranboo jumped, nearly hitting his head on the trapdoor ceiling, before registering the voice as Phil’s. Not Dream’s. He was fine. It wasn’t Dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ranboo?” Then Phil’s voice was quieter, speaking to someone else and sharing words Ranboo couldn’t hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing nervously, Ranboo cast one more look at Tubbo’s sleeping form before pushing the medical kit under the bed and headed for the makeshift staircase, already preparing to babble apologies and excuses to Phil and Technoblade. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say yet, but he could probably come up with something that wouldn’t get him evicted. Hopefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he popped his head above ground, Phil was certainly there, but there piglin-hybrid was nowhere in sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo’s jaw dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um- uh- hi, hey, Phil, and- and…” Following words dried in his throat as he looked at the other man, recognizing the face but nothing else. “You- you are definitely not Ghostbur, um, so that means-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Wilbur Soot said, tipping his head slightly and giving Ranboo a small, thin, smile. “You’re quite tall. You must be Ranboo, yeah? Where’s Tubbo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh- I- uh-” Ranboo stammered, shaking his head slightly, unable to believe what he was seeing. “You… actually got it to work, Phil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of, yeah,” Phil said, his tone indiscernible. It wasn’t anywhere close to happy, but he didn’t sound all that upset, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you?” Wilbur asked directly, looking straight at Ranboo. “What kind of hybrid, I mean, because clearly you are one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo didn’t like eye contact normally, but he felt like in that moment he disliked Wilbur’s eye contact the most. He felt stuck, like he was a bug pinned and displayed on a wall to be looked over with a piercing examination. His shoulders hunched even further, and his head lowered in a futile attempt to escape Wilbur’s sharp brown eyes. “I’m- I’m half enderman. I don’t- I don’t know what the other half is, and if I did, um, I forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that explains the height, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo felt like he was being peeled away, layer by layer, and that the stranger in front of him was finding things that Ranboo didn’t even know about. “You- you asked about Tubbo, right? You’re not going to, like, try and kill him, right?” His fingers itched to grab his sword, but he only flexed his fingers at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Wilbur asked at the same time Phil shook his head emphatically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I just mean, I know he was- he was the president, and after- you know, L’manburg, I thought… I didn’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to kill Tubbo, Ranboo,” Phil said soothingly. “He’s no longer part of a government, he’s not really against us anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to him, Wilbur’s gaze shot to Phil, eyes full of fire and fury that put Ranboo on edge all over again. Wilbur opened his mouth, began to speak, then shut his jaw with a sharp click, looking back at Ranboo. “No, I’m not going to fucking kill Tubbo,” he drawled, and Ranboo was taken aback how alike Tommy he sounded for a brief moment. “So, you do have him, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yes, I do. Come- come on, down here. He’s asleep, though, so try not to be loud?” Nervousness bled into Ranboo’s tone, and he was grateful when he could turn away from Wilbur to walk down the dirt stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right.” Phil’s voice sounded strained, floating in from the back of their small group. “Your comfort room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a strange definition of comfort, Ranboo,” Wilbur remarked, sounding amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I, I guess so. He’s- Tubbo’s over here.” Ranboo motioned to the bed in the corner of the room, and Wilbur brushed past his shoulder as he strolled over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good, he lived,” Wilbur said emotionlessly, bending over to look closer at Tubbo’s sleeping form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A nervous laugh briefly left Ranboo. “Well- yeah, it’d be kind of messed up for me to just keep his dead body down here, that’s not- I’m not, you know, that weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Wilbur hummed, taking one hand out of his coat pocket to nudge at Tubbo’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you do that?” Phil asked from beside Ranboo. “I haven’t been in the house, but that looks like supplies from our medical kit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I did, yeah, sorry,” Ranboo said. “Tubbo- Tubbo told me what to do. I would’ve been useless otherwise. I can- I can get supplies to replace what I used, um, I’ll figure it out, sorry for using so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll worry about that later,” Phil dismissed. “You did good, for your first time patching someone up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it was- it was mostly Tubbo, I-” Ranboo’s voice cut off as he noticed Tubbo beginning to stir. Wilbur was still leaning heavily over him, almost directly in the teen’s eyesight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to him, Phil let out a short, annoyed sigh. Ranboo looked over, head tilted in slight confusion. “So… what did you mean, the whole, um, Wilbur thing sort of worked? What went wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s lips pressed in a thin line, and Ranboo opened his mouth to backtrack, certain he had gone too far. “Ghostbur’s still around, somehow, don’t ask me how because I don’t have a clue, and it’s just…” His lips twitched, something sad deep in his blue eyes. “Not how I expected today to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur, clearly having heard them, laughed shortly. Tubbo stirred further, languid eyes blinking open. “Wilbur?” he murmured, his scratchy voice quickly rising with alarm. “Oh, don’t tell me I actually died, dammit! I thought- Ranboo found me, how did- how did this happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo started to move, to assuage Tubbo’s worry, but Wilbur’s booming laugh beat him to it. “You’re not dead Tubbo. Neither am I, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh… what?” Tubbo, having seen Ranboo, flicked his gaze from the half-enderman to the clearly alive man next to him. “Surely… surely not, Wilbur, you can’t be… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, Tubbo.” Wilbur’s voice was far lighter, much softer than it had been when he had questioned Ranboo previously. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know me!” Tubbo’s voice was full of false cheer, and he struggled to sit up. “Been through a lot worse, I’ve made it through alright so far. Ranboo helped a lot, this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo shook his head self-consciously as Wilbur’s eyes turned to him. “If you hadn’t told me what to do, Tubbo, you’d be in a lot worse place. I really don’t think I did much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you did!” Tubbo said brightly. “You brought me back here, didn’t you? You saved me, Ranboo.” Ranboo didn’t know what to say to that, and it seemed like Tubbo wasn’t waiting for an answer. “And holy crap, Wilbur, I can’t believe you’re actually alive again!” His face flickered, and the brief smiles were replaced by a heavy, sorrow-filled tone. “Tommy would… Tommy would be really happy to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to him, Tubbo?” Phil asked, and Ranboo watched him purposefully ignore the furious look Wilbur sent the older man’s way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo did sit up now, drawing his knees up to his chest. He coughed, wincing as he swallowed, and Ranboo passed another water bottle to him. After drinking it, Tubbo exhaled in slight relief and looked up at the three who stood around him. “Right. I’ll tell you guys, and, I’ll tell you the plan I have to get him out. I do have one, you know. But, yeah, I should probably fill you guys in first.” Reluctance made his words heavy, weighed down with sorrow and regret that Ranboo felt settle over the room. “It started when… Well, there’s no point in telling you most of it. We lost.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next time: Wilbur learns what happened to Tommy</p><p>comments and kudos are super appreciated mwah<br/>come talk to me on twitter @sbimellohi ! im on there a lot bc i have brainrot aha</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Fickle Thing Called Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur does what he does best: listens, learns, and refuses to trust... well, anyone, but especially the new kid.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy stared up the ceiling, and tried not to think.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was easier, that way, if he kept his mind empty and didn’t think too hard about much of anything. The redstone lamp pulsed in a soft glow constantly, never giving Tommy any indication of when it was night or day. As a consequence, he felt constantly tired, ready to fall asleep despite the light at a moment’s notice, just to pass the time. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy didn’t know how long he’d been here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was no clock, no windows, nothing. All Tommy had was this dumb redstone lamp and Sam when he brought him food a few times a day. A day?More? Less?  Tommy often dozed for an indeterminable amount of time between meals, only waking when he heard footsteps on the blackstone floor. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sam?” Tommy croaked as the warden stopped in front of his cell, holding a warm tray in his hand. The food was pushed across the barrier, and Tommy reluctantly walked across the call to collect it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For the first time, the warden lingered. “Tommy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sam, how… how long have I been here?” Tommy had several more questions, trembling on the tip of his tongue. He voiced none of them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The man sighed, and when he shook his head Tommy already knew the answer that would pass from his lips. “Dream doesn’t want me telling you that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why not?” Tommy challenged anyways, a spark of indignation rising up in him. “What’s the harm, Sam, come on, please. I just- I just want to know something that’s true.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam hesitated, and Tommy looked up at him from where he sat on the floor of his cell, silently pleading for an answer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eat your food, Tommy,” Sam said instead, and the teen wilted. He pushed around the food, slowly forcing himself to finish eating.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam took the tray when he was done, and Tommy lay back on his bed, staring at the redstone lamp slowly pulse in a steady, unending rhythm.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy tapped his fingers to the slow beat until he was too exhausted to do so anymore.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He dozed. Or maybe he didn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The next sound he heard was Sam’s footsteps, bringing him his next meal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur regarded the new guy with interest as he stood in front of him, ignoring the way the frozen air bit at his ears and fingertips. He stared, head tilted, and tried to read the hybrid for all he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe being dead had put him out of practice. Maybe Ranboo was just that good at concealing what lay behind his dual-colored eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Ranboo revealed he had Tubbo, and it no longer mattered. For the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo was asleep, then successfully fooled into thinking he had died, which Wilbur laughed at when no one else did. His mood sombered quickly though, as the conversation turned to the person he had the least information on since returning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur pulled a half-empty chest over to the side of Tubbo’s bed, and sat atop it. Despite his efforts to push past it, his stomach still throbbed from the slowly healing wound that he couldn’t keep off his mind. The other two, Phil and the ridiculously tall hybrid, continued to stand, a little ways back, but still clearly listening. Wilbur leaned forward, arms on his knees, chin in his hands, and listened intently to the injured boy of whom he couldn’t remember the last conversation they had. Somewhere between L’manburg’s independence and the nightmare turned reality of Phil murdering him, they had spoken, they must have, but it all faded behind a haze that was created of memories or nightmares or both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream… was too strong for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he was, Wilbur thought. The only times the two of them had been able to defeat Dream had been in the unexpected, in the trickery. In the giving up of discs, of the fakes exchanged under the guise the real things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He made us give up our items, we had to toss them in a pit, and he… he blew them up with TNT.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo, that strange hybrid, made a choked noise from where he stood at the foot of Tubbo’s bed, drawing all eyes to him for a moment. Wilbur noticed Ranboo’s flinch the instant his eyes fell on Ranboo’s multicolored ones, and raised one eyebrow at the twin beats of satisfaction and confusion that skipped in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, right, Dream had this… base, in the mountain. We had to go on this elevator, and the room- it was bedrock level. The discs were there, and there were places for a lot of other peoples’ stuff, too. Like, um, Carl, Technoblade’s horse? There was a pen for him. And- Ranboo, your cat, too. Even- even Skeppy, for Bad. He kept, you know, going on about how he needed to take people’s attachments away, so he could be the one to control the server again.” Tubbo’s voice grew rougher as he talked, and there was a lull in his explanation so he could take another drink of water, assisted by Ranboo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So- Dream is trying to control the whole server by taking the things that people care about?” Phil sounded confused. “Does he not think that everyone would band together to stop that from happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as everyone’s divided like they are now, Phil, they can’t all come together against Dream,” Ranboo muttered darkly, eyes cast to the side. “Not if they don’t realize it until it’s too late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-right, yeah, I think, that probably is Dream’s plan. Some attachments, though, he wanted to just- get rid of completely. Like- me.” Tubbo took a deep breath, then tipped his head back slightly. Wilbur blinked, taking in the scabbed-over gash on Tubbo’s neck. “He was going to kill me,” Tubbo said emotionlessly, lowering his chin again. “It was supposed to be over for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The casual tone of his voice settled against Wilbur in familiarity, but where his face gave no reaction the others expelled one, voices bursting in twin shouts of shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re on your last life-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was going to kill you in front of Tommy? Oh, god-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet.” Wilbur’s voice rang out like the commander of the army he was, or had been, and all eyes snapped to him. “Let Tubbo speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo smiled briefly. “Thanks, Wilbur. Um- yeah, I was going to be alright with it,” And suddenly Wilbur felt his hands trembling, because that look of detached disappointment in Tubbo’s eyes was not something Wilbur was used to seeing looking anywhere else but the mirror. “But Tommy- I mean, you know Tommy, he- he wasn’t just going to take that lying down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Phil said ruefully, a smile in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream was about to kill me when Tommy took Techno’s Axe of Peace from the wall and said that if I died, then he would too.” Tubbo pushed those words out in one big rush, his following inhale taking all the air from the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Wilbur asked, more confused than shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream won’t kill Tommy, he said… he said Tommy’s more fun alive.” Tubbo squirmed slightly, looking just as uncomfortable as the others felt hearing that. “So Tommy… well, he figured the one piece of leverage he had on him was to… was to end himself, basically.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo’s lips were moving soundlessly, a repetitive motion, and he swayed slightly in his spot. Wilbur found him incredibly unsettling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, but, you’re alive. So where’s Tommy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prison. That’s where Dream’s taken him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur frowned, not understanding the despondent tone. “What, the jail cell in the courthouse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Tubbo looked at Wilbur with pity and understanding, far more familiar emotions to be seen in the teen’s eyes. “No, there’s a new prison, now. It’s… well no one knows much about it, honestly. Sam built it, at Dream’s contract, I think. Not much is known about it, but the rumors say it’s supposed to be inescapable. Impossible to enter, unless you have prior access. You know. Typical maximum security prison stuff.” For all the defeatist words he was saying, Tubbo, strangely enough, didn’t look too upset. Ranboo did, though, and for that Wilbur turned to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And only Dream will, I’m sure,” Phil said grimly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is wrong with you, Ranboo?” Wilbur talked over the blond man. “You’re like a weird vibrating stick figure.” Tubbo laughed shortly at that, only cringing in pain slightly. Wilbur grinned, but Ranboo only looked all the more horrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s just- that’s exactly what I thought Tubbo was going to say, and that’s, oh Prime, that’s really not good,” Ranboo stammered. “It’s going to be Tommy’s exile all over again, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because no one can visit him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laughter died. Tubbo’s face closed off, and his following words were quiet. “I know, Ranboo, I know. That’s why I’ve got a plan.” No one said a word, they waited in silence. There was no hint of nervousness in Tubbo’s voice as he spoke next. “We’re going to nuke the prison. Blow it all to fucking smithereens.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Phil exploded, entirely flabbergasted. Ranboo’s jaw went slack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur looked down at his hands, and tried to figure out why he couldn’t stop their shaking. The scent of gunpowder filled his nose, the world around him caving in as it opened up underneath him. L’manburg’s first explosion, its first scar. The final room, the last surrender. The duel. The discs. Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, faded snatches of memory. The depths of a ravine. The traces of gunpowder that never left his fingertips. The fear in Tommy’s eyes, always intertwined and drowned out by that damned loyalty. An unfinished symphony. A button. A repetition. Phil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need some air,” Wilbur declared, interrupting the arguing from the others. His head was pounding, his gut clenched as he stood, swaying unsteadily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright, mate?” Phil ventured, reaching out a hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur flinched away. “Don’t touch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cold wind outside was a breath of fresh air, catching in Wilbur’s throat. He exhaled slowly, the fog rising in the air reminding him of nicotine and smoke. He couldn’t remember taking up smoking, but the itch and the crave burned in the back of his throat. He tapped his fingers against his leg, suddenly restless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head spun, any attempt at finding a memory or filling in the blanks leaving his mind as empty as the expanse of snow that stretched out before him. Any memory that he managed to snag his fingertips into left him shaken, finding twisted words he didn’t remember saying at the tip of his lips, the actions of a cold and broken man that Wilbur found he was scared of becoming. Or, rebecoming, perhaps. And then there was the after, the space of time he had simply existed in a non-material space, waiting for the end of anything and the start of something in the middle of nothing. It was the space where L’manburg had been destroyed, Tommy had been exiled, and this hybrid had entered the picture, now living in Phil’s backyard like another kid that the older man would try and fail to help. Or all the other ways around, the timeline was another thing Wilbur was failing to grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The snow soaked into his pant legs, and Wilbur walked aimlessly, leaving Ranboo’s bare shack and the nicer-looking cabins behind, wandering a little ways into the pine forest. His fingers scratched along the spruce logs, calloused palms barely catching in the splinters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Horse hooves thundered in the snow, shaking the trees around it, and Wilbur’s relieved exhale froze halfway out of his throat, already knowing who was behind him before the horse came to an unsteady stop. Hooves shuffled in the snow, and a deep voice that barely shook said his name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned, torn between bitter scorn and nostalgic joy. “Technoblade.” He settled on mildly surprised, careful to contain either extreme. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tumultuous shock and grief in Techno’s eyes lingered longer than Wilbur expected, which surprised him all the more. But, as things always were with the pig hybrid, those emotions faded and Techno’s voice settled back into the familiar monotone. “I never doubted Phil for a second. Good to see you, Wilbur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur began to think of how to respond, crafting the perfect words that would give him answers without giving too much away, another round of the word games he played so often with Techno in every conversation. Shock overcame sense, however, and when his mouth opened what left was, “You helped Phil destroy L’manburg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nodded. “I did. I helped you destroy it the first time, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur didn’t question how Techno had figured out he was missing pieces of his memory. “How? The first time, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spawned a couple of Withers after you died.” Wilbur searched Techno’s face for an ounce of regret and found none. “Though, not nearly as many as Phil did the second time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Wilbur said simply. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve seen L’manburg, I assume,” Techno said, sliding off his horse and gathering the lead in his hand. He began to walk through the forest, and despite Wilbur’s continuous confusion, he followed. “Are your thoughts on government still the same as they were before you were exiled and went crazy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur raised an eyebrow, recognizing the tone. “Are you threatening me, Techno?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno laughed, and Wilbur smiled despite himself. “Would I do that, Wilbur? No. Merely curious on where you stand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember going crazy,” Wilbur said instead. “Though I guess it explains a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt crazy people recognize when they are going crazy, except from a detached perspective. Like what you have right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur nodded. “I don’t know what I feel on government at the moment. It seems there are more important things right now, and I’d rather think about those than L’manburg, otherwise I feel like I might snap again.” At Techno’s sharp look, Wilbur laughed. “Only joking. Like I said, I don’t remember going mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s returning laugh was only slightly more wary. “Right, of course. What more important things are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s shoulders rose with his inhale. “I don’t really know myself, to be honest. Shortest version I can give you is that Tommy and Tubbo went to fight Dream, they lost, Dream’s put Tommy in whatever this new fucking prison is, and I think Tubbo wants to nuke the place, and I am having two very different reactions to that and I’m rather not a fan of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno stopped, and his chestnut horse stopped with him. “That is a lot of information to sum up in one sentence, Wilbur.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re all down in that fellow Ranboo’s house if you want to talk to them,” Wilbur said, pointing. “I’ll be honest, being down there makes me feel like I’m suffocating, so I decided to take a walk. Still don’t think I want to go back in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, that’s alright,” Techno said, slightly awkwardly. “I’m gonna- I feel like I need to know what’s going on and you’re the least helpful person to give me that information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur peeled off from Techno, giving the hybrid that he might have, once upon a time, considered a brother, a mocking salute before heading toward the cabin, lingering by the buzzing beehive for a minute before entering the house proper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, it was not empty as he expected. Ranboo scrambled down the ladder much quicker when he realized someone had entered the house, landing with an unsteady thump before  Wilbur, a sheepish smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bold of you to root through Techno’s things,” Wilbur said, leaning against the doorframe. Ranboo visibly shivered as the cold rushed in, and Wilbur tensed his shoulders to hide a shiver of his own, continuing to give off an unbothered air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just returning the medical kit I borrowed from him to patch up Tubbo. He, uh, fell back asleep again.” Ranboo admitted, reaching up with one long arm to rub behind his head, smiling slightly at Wilbur without meeting his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur crossed his arms, and didn’t look away. Something was off about this kid. He was too sweet, too innocent. And not innocent in the Tubbo way, an accidental display of innocence that gave way to unbridled chaos at the best of times. There was something lurking deep beneath Ranboo’s surface, whether he was aware of it or not, and Wilbur was not a fan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll know, you know. You can’t hide things like that from Technoblade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo nodded again. “I, yeah, I know. I’m gonna figure out some way to refill his supplies.” Wilbur said nothing to that, and regarded him in silence for a brief moment, just enough that Ranboo started to look uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about what happened to Tommy in exile,” Wilbur said before Ranboo could make any attempt at escape. He took a step forward, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. “What was that about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo pulled his book out again, flipping through the pages. He began to talk, and once again, Wilbur listened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The events leading up to the exile didn’t shake Wilbur. Dream’s influence through it didn’t either. His lip curled as Ghostbur was mentioned, and found himself pleased when Ranboo quickly hurried on from the topic. Then Ranboo spoke of what Dream had taken from Tommy every day. The way his armor would never stick around, and new bruises and injuries would appear on his skin with every passing day. Ranboo told him of how sometimes when he tried to visit Tommy, he found him sitting on a wooden plank that hung over the lava, unresponsive until Ranboo got close enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo told him of the tower, and what Tubbo had thought had happened. What almost had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The level of fury in Wilbur could rival the moment he had respawned just after Eret had betrayed them all. Could rival the moment Schlatt had exiled them from L’manburg moments after seizing power. Could rival a memory he couldn’t grasp, but there was a fire burning bright despite it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s plan of nuking the place was sounding better and better. So was the idea of putting a sword through someone’s gut. Probably Dream’s, but Wilbur wasn’t sure how picky he was feeling at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who else visited?” he asked, low and deadly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo had put as much space between them as possible, all but backed up against the far wall of chests. “I- I don’t know. I don’t- I don’t remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Phil? Techno?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t… I don’t know. I know that Tommy stayed here for a while after he left, um, exile, though that didn’t last long, either. Tommy sided with Tubbo when Techno wanted to blow up L’manburg.” Panic entered Ranboo’s expression, but the panic of a distant memory that Wilbur was not privy to. “That day… was not a good day. That day-” Ranboo slammed his book shut, looking very much as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Wilbur didn’t plan on letting him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the universe gave Ranboo an escape in the form of Phil opening the door, nearly bumping into Wilbur’s back as he entered. “Oh! Sorry, son.” The words fell from Phil’s mouth by habit, and though some part at the back of Wilbur’s mind knew that, it didn’t stop the poisonous glare that he met Phil with as he turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil took it in stride, barely reacting to Wilbur’s glare before stating. “It’s getting pretty late, Ranboo. You planning to stay for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no, I, uh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Ranboo stammered, stepping around the two. “Besides, um, someone should probably look after Tubbo tonight, so, you guys catch up! And I’ll just- yeah.” Pressed against the wall to keep from touching either of them, Ranboo squeezed out of the house and started down the stairs, a startled yelp coming from him seconds later, the cause identified by Techno entering the house moments after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house quieted, and the three men, once as close as family but now torn and tossed asunder, stared at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur regarded them. Neither of them had visited Tommy. Both of them had eviscerated his L’manburg with the same man who had nearly driven Tommy to the end. The same man who had Tommy captive now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I reckon I’m gonna go in with Tubbo on the nukes plan,” Wilbur said conversationally, though if he was honest he barely knew anything about the plan. It simply seemed like the quickest way to get Tommy out of there, and he planned to do whatever necessary to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno looked amused, Phil looked apprehensive. Wilbur understood one of these expressions more than the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could tell Phil was keeping the conversation forcibly light as they dined on roasted potatoes, steak, and shimmering golden carrots, and Wilbur hated it. The house was too quiet, the space that Tommy had carved around the three of them spoke volumes, even without his cacophonous energy. Wilbur retreated inward, both sullen and exhausted. It didn’t matter. These two would be no help, and he certainly didn’t trust them if they tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Night fell, and Techno and Phil left Wilbur with some blankets on the couch and a promise to get him a proper bed tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stood at the window as the stars rose, staring out the paned trapdoors, mind awake despite his bodily exhaustion. He thought of a ravine, of all the sleepless nights he had missed out looking at the stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had the stars been out when he died? He couldn’t recall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulled out of his spiral, Wilbur’s eyes shot to a tall, dark figure making his way along the edge of the snow covered hill, moving quickly like he was trying to disappear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo had seemed incredibly adamant on watching over Tubbo earlier. Wilbur’s eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quick search through Techno’s chests found invisibility potions coated in a thin layer of dust, and Wilbur was off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t used to moving silently in the snow, but it didn’t take long for him to adjust, swiftly sliding across the snow and ice, but still keeping his distance from the methodical movements of the enderman hybrid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as he could tell, he wasn’t noticed. Invisibility and his experience in wars lent him helpful hands even as he continued across the unfamiliar plains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they arrived at the same portal Wilbur had exited with Phil hours earlier, and after waiting a few seconds, Wilbur followed Ranboo in. He retraced his steps up the cobblestone path, but veered off to the side when he saw who was standing in the middle of it, waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur ducked behind a pile of netherrack and abandoned pink wool, invisible fingers clutching the red material as he listened with bated breath, rotten satisfaction blooming in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo stopped right in front of Dream, and at first, said nothing at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Ranboo!” Dream said cheerfully, as if he was greeting an old friend. Distantly, it reminded Wilbur of how Dream and Tommy had used to greet each other, before the discs and L'manburg and everything went to shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grin split Ranboo’s face, and he responded in kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say, do you know where Tubbo is?” Dream’s words were all smooth silk, and he seemed wholly unafraid of retaliation. His axe hung loosely in his grip, barely brushing the ground. “I traced his path here, but lost track once outside the portal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo nodded, no trace of the earlier nervous inflections in his tone. “He’s staying in the comfort room, below the shack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s eyes flawed wide, and he bit back a snarl. This bastard hybrid was no better than Phil or Techno, possibly was worse in how he hid his treachery under an innocent, seemingly genuine guise of concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed what words were passed between them next, but brought himself out of his own thoughts in time to catch Dream speaking. “Tomorrow then. Leave a tunnel for me to dig in through, so no one interrupts.” He inclined his head, and began to walk away. Ranboo followed, barely a step behind. “Come on, now. It’s time to burn Tubbo’s pitiful excuse of a country to the ground. Maybe this time he’ll learn his lesson”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them disappeared into the haze of the nether, and Wilbur was left, full of self-righteous conviction and burning fury. He marched back to the cabin, invisibility potion wearing off as he traversed the snowy fields, and spent a sleepless night glaring out the window, waiting for the outcome of yet another betrayal.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next time: Dream follows through<br/>thank you for reading! kudos and comments are so very appreciated :)<br/>find me on twitter @sbimellohi !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Traitors and Manipulators</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno forces Wilbur to face some uncomfortable truths, and comes to terms with yet another betrayal.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ve been eating.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy’s head rose the barest amount possible, just enough to watch Dream walk into the cell, iron door slamming shut behind him. His hand was hidden behind his back, and Tommy cringed away slightly at the mere idea of what Dream had prepared for him now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy looked to the edge of the cell, to the tray Sam still hadn’t collected. The foil from the baked potato was empty, and the water bottle lay carelessly open, not a drop left. Tommy’s stomach felt heavy from it, but he would take this feeling every day over Dream forcing him to again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, I have,” he responded, voice hollow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, I have a reward for you.” Dream’s voice was surprisingly bright, catching Tommy’s attention.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A reward,” he grumbled. “I’m not a fucking dog that needs to be trained, I-” Tommy’s voice caught, eyes transfixed on the black music disc with the green stripe surrounding the middle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I was just trying to be nice, Tommy.” Sounding genuinely regretful, Dream dropped his hand and began to walk back to the cell doors.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No!” Tommy scrambled to his feet, a wave of fatigue threatening to tip him over entirely. “I do- I do want to hear it, please, Dream.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream stopped, and relief crashed over Tommy as he turned, now with a jukebox in his hand. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can I touch it?” he whispered, reverently, as the jukebox was set down and the disc was pulled out once more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream laughed, and Tommy flinched. “No, you can’t touch it, Tommy, do you think I’m an idiot?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, I wouldn’t do anything, Dream, I just want- I just thought-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, Tommy. In fact, if you insist on continuing to be such an annoying bug, maybe you don’t actually want to hear the disc after all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy paled, instantly trying to recover what ground he had lost. “No, no, I’m sorry, you can keep the disc, please, I won’t- I won’t try anything, I swear.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go sit back against that wall, Tommy.” He compiled instantly, back hitting the obsidian so hard that for a moment he saw stars.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When he blinked past them, Cat was playing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The tumbling, slightly discordant melodies floated to Tommy’s ears, ethereal in a way he had never heard them. His eyes shut, head tipped back against the cold obsidian, and briefly he was somewhere else, a bench, a sunset, a friend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy’s chest jolted in a sob, he bit his lip to keep it down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’re you thinking about?” Dream asked, pulling gently at all the threads that he knew could unravel Tommy in an instant.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And they did. The word tore itself from Tommy’s mouth before he registered it, throat hiccuping softly as he fought back tears of grief. “Tubbo.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His breathing stopped the moment Dream took the disc from the jukebox, leaving the room in a painful silence. The cell door clanged shut, and Tommy curled his arms around his head, cursing himself for mentioning the one thing that would cause his friend his captor his only visitor to leave him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno was pretty certain he had processed nothing from the past several hours. Finding Wilbur, resurrected, in the woods outside his house? Sure. Tubbo, recovering from a rough trip in the Nether in Ranboo’s creepy basement? Why not. Tubbo and Tommy failed to fight Dream, and Tommy had been taken to the prison? Techno had anticipated one of those results, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Tubbo wanted to nuke said prison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure. Okay. That’s fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When the heck did you develop nukes?” Techno asked, leaning against the far wall, keeping his distance from the former president. Phil sat at a chest that had been placed next to his bed, looking conflicted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I made the Snowchester community,” Tubbo said simply, eyes still heavy with exhaustion from just waking back up. “Initially it was, well, it was a precautionary measure, in case Dream tried to stop us from separating ourselves from the greater SMP. Or, you know, if you guys decided that you didn’t like what we were doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Phil blurted out. Techno straightened, hand on the handle of his trident, jaw tightening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What d’you mean, what?” Tubbo responded easily, seeming like he was struggling to hold in laughter. “Techno has destroyed L’manburg twice, you helped him the second time. Whether you want to be or not, you are both massive threats, and you hold a lot of power. You can’t just expect that everyone will crumble under the pressure without figuring out a way to try and match that, now can you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you were planning to nuke us out here?” Techno barely held his voice back from rising to a roar, stepping forward to loom over Tubbo’s bed. Tubbo’s face dipped, shadowing into fear momentarily before he swallowed, keeping his voice level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you went after us first, Technoblade,” Tubbo said firmly. “We wouldn’t attack unprovoked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s ludicrous!” Phil shouted. Tubbo’s shoulders pressed further into the pillow, a futile attempt to sink into the bed and disappear. “How can you think the appropriate response to anything is fucking nukes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the only appropriate response if I want to keep my country from blowing up for a third time, Phil!” Tubbo’s body language demonstrated his fear, but his voice blazed with righteous fire, jaw set in determination. “Do I necessarily want to? No! But if it’ll keep you from interfering with us, then it’s what I’ll have to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Tubbo!” Phil yelped. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno looked at Tubbo, and saw a child soldier, a warrior, a leader, a reflection of himself that he had never seen before. He wondered how Tubbo kept it all so hidden behind his cheerful inflection. “It doesn’t matter- none of this matters right now, Phil! What matters, right now, is getting Tommy back. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil sputtered, but Techno caught Tubbo’s attention with a nod. “He’s right. We can sit here arguing for hours over why the government is bad and why having nukes is an awful idea-” Tubbo glared at him, but Techno ignored him, continuing forward. “-But none of that is going to help get Tommy out. The nukes will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. Thank you, Technoblade,” Tubbo said, his anger redirecting before Techno’s eyes. Next to him, Phil deflated, though anger still lingered on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices screamed in Techno’s ears, raging both at the mere idea of nukes being used on his home and at Tommy’s current placement. Techno tuned it all out with the silent promise of fixing both problems, one before the other. The nukes could be used in their favor, for now. Destroying the prison with it would make sure that he himself wouldn’t be put into it at anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are they,” he asked. “The nukes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo looked at him like he was an idiot. “Well, they’re in Snowchester, obviously. In the secret lab.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno was pretty sure this kid lived in a fantasy world of his own creation. “Secret lab. Of course. How easy will it be to get the nukes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s lips pressed in a thin line. “Not very. I’m the only one with access to the laboratory entrance, and the nukes will need to be recalibrated toward the prison instead of the test site. We don’t have time to test them, but I’m certain it’ll work anyways. They’ve got to, anyhow. I want to get Tommy out of there as quickly as possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room fell silent in agreement, neither of the older men able to figure out which complaint to voice first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll figure out a better game plan tomorrow, then.” Phil stood, deadened wings twitching slightly as he stretched his back. “We’ve all had some long-ass days, and I think we could all use a good meal and a long sleep, alright? We’ll talk more tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo opened his mouth soundlessly as Phil left, frustration crossing his face. As Techno moved to follow him out, Tubbo’s following words stopped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is wrong with him?” Tubbo said, seemingly half to himself. “Does he not care? I nearly died today, so did Tommy, and now he’s back with Dream, and- and all you guys care about is how I might go against you guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno lingered, forehead crinkled in confusion and concern. “Phil cares, Tubbo. He just isn’t too great at showing it when he means it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tubbo muttered, crossing his arms with a slight wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno sighed, unsure how to break down the intricacies of his oldest friend to this volatile teenage leader. “I know. It’s not supposed to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boots cutting easily through the snow, he caught up to Phil and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder to stop him. “Is everything alright, Phil?” The voices echoed his concern, pulsing in his mind as the extension of his own thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine, mate.” Phil sighed, rubbing his palm against his forehead. “It’s just- it’s been a very long day, between this whole new thing and with Wil back now, it’s- it’s more complicated than I thought it would be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Techno almost felt a smile crack his lips, mild bewilderment filling his voice. “Come on, Phil, you can’t tell me that you really thought bringing Wilbur back from the dead would be that easy, right? You really thought he’d come back, what, the same kid you raised? You knew that wasn’t how it was going to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil grimaced. “I mean, you’re right, it’s just- a lot harder than I expected, Techno. I feel like I don’t know him very much at all anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah…” Techno took a moment to respond, sorting out his response past the voices and the feelings. “Well, wasn’t that the goal of bringing him back? Now you can. Get to know him, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if he wants to know me, Techno. You should’ve seen how he looked at me when he found out I helped destroy L’manburg. And-” Phil’s crossed arms squeezed his biceps, staring out at the cabin with a tight, painful expression. “He’s mad at me for Tommy, too. It’s all- it’s all one big fucking mess, still. Haven’t been able to fix anything. Haven’t tried, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shifted in the awkward silence, uncertain what he could say that would help Phil with his incredibly messy and broken family. It was times like this that Techno was glad he had no family, that his closest attachment was his oldest friend. The voices, as usual, had other opinions, and as usual, Techno ignored them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly sensing his awkwardness, Phil patted Techno’s hand on his shoulder and stepped away from it, a mask wiping over his face, a familiar gentle smile. Techno recognized that mask, and hated himself for being unable to stop it. “Ah, sorry, mate. I don’t need to dump all this heavy stuff on you. Come on, let’s head in.” Phil started toward the house again, this time with Techno a few steps behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno cursed under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. The voices wailed in sympathy, and Techno had no choice but to straighten his shoulders against the weight of regret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to walk up the steps as soon as Ranboo tumbled out of the house, all but scrambling to leave the place. He let out a surprised squeak as he ran straight into Techno, stammering apologies as the taller hybrid squeezed by and dashed away. Techno watched him go, then entered the house without another word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing Wilbur flushed with life, irregardless of the coldness in his dark eyes, still took Techno’s breath away. The conversation from earlier hadn’t felt any more real than this present moment, and something inside of Techno swelled, a wild curiosity to know who this new Wilbur was. Was he the boy Techno had grown up sparring next to, or the madman who brought destruction to everything he touched?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire cabin was filled with a stiff, silent air. Suffocating. Entirely different from the calm of retirement, entirely different from the chaos that Tommy had brought. Techno felt like he was choking on the silence, as Phil’s attempts at safe conversations lapsed and Wilbur’s glare lingered, heavy across the table. He had a sneaking suspicion that Wilbur blamed him for L’manburg’s destruction as much as Phil, which tracked, he supposed, when you ignored the fact that Wilbur had been the first of them all to advocate for its destruction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An awkward farewell led to Techno and Phil climbing the ladder to the upstairs room, leaving Wilbur with a makeshift bed on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he runs?” Phil whispered once they were upstairs. Every line of his face was creased with worry, more visible than ever in the dim lantern light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t, Phil,” Techno rumbled, wishing for once that his eyes were heavy with sleep if only so this night could pass quicker than most. “He wants Tommy back, right? He isn’t going to leave now because you guys couldn’t figure out how to talk tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil exhaled heavily from where he lay. “You’re right. Of course you’re right, Techno.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am,” Techno responded easily. “Goodnight, Phil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“G’night, Techno.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, Phil’s soft, even breaths filled the air, and Techno stared at the slanted roof of his cabin, plagued with far too many thoughts and voices and memories to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distantly, he thought of Tommy. The teen who had come to him starved, bruised, and beaten, how it hadn’t taken long for Techno to put the pieces together and silently vow to keep Dream away from him as much as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rage had blinded him. Rightfully placed rage, but it was blindness nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno blinked away the memories of Tommy’s wild laughter, his abrasive movements, his intense, stupid loyalty. He thought of the screams that tore from Tommy’s throat during a nightmare, the way his hands shook when Techno’s words were too sharp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, Techno didn’t know what to feel. What he preferred to keep locked away in a dark box to never open exploded in his heart as bitter hurt and fierce protectiveness, somehow twisting into one and the same. The voices roared in agreement, and Techno fought to understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhaustion wore him down, and he was grateful when his eyes began to slide shut, sleep drowning out the endless arguments he didn’t understand how to resolve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distantly, he thought he heard a door shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opened his eyes, it was to the same track of nightmares once again. He cut through them all, watching each foolish enemy lose the life in their eyes, arms jerking like he was being puppeted, moved from above by some hand, and it was either his own or Tommy or Dream who held the strings, directing the slashes of his sword until he ripped the string from his body, plunging the sword into his own gut and waking in a sea of blood, choking on the thick liquid that filled every orifice and suffocated him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No amount of prior knowledge in the world from the hundreds of lifetimes he had lived this nightmare could stop the way his body reacted, the pounding heartbeat and the restless unconscious movements and the screams bit back only by the practiced clenching of his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes again and the sun had risen, high enough to stream in through the attic window and cast light upon his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, blinking memories or nightmares out of his mind, Techno stood, and stretched, and began to prepare for the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo had probably already taken care of the chores, as that kid continued to be endlessly helpful with the stuff that Techno didn’t really want to do, like checking on the cows and the dogs and clearing stray mobs that tried to linger with the dawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he descended the ladder, he found Wilbur sitting at the table, tapping his foot with his arms crossed and a furious look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no avoiding a presence as silently loud as Wilbur’s, so Techno didn’t even try to beat around the bush before asking, “Where’s Phil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He left,” Wilbur seethed. “I told him not to leave, but he said that he had to go find Ghostbur, that fucking happy-go-lucky echo of me. The version he prefers, probably.” The words were said dismissively, but Techno caught the hurt in Wilbur’s dark eyes and looked away from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno poured himself a cup of tea from the kettle Phil had left out, wrapping cold hands around the steaming mug. “He’s just trying to look out for him-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why him?” Wilbur slammed his fist down on the table. Techno only calmly turned to look at the other man, refusing to give him the reaction he so clearly desired. “What’s so different about him that he couldn’t give to me, or to Tommy? He doesn’t give a fuck about Tommy, he never did! I’m the only one who ever tried to care, who did care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno gripped the mug tighter, ignoring the way his palms burned so that he could keep his hands from visibly shaking. Wilbur’s tone, fast and furious, was all too familiar of the man who had stalked the pathways of Pogtopia with madness in his broken eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur,” he said warningly. When the other man quieted, Techno sighed, giving himself a moment to think. “That’s… I mean, come on, you know that’s not true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?” Wilbur challenged with a tongue sharp and vicious. “You never visited him in his exile, apparently, neither of you did. You sided with the one person who has him now, you destroyed L’manburg, you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t put yourself on some high horse, Wilbur. You were hardly any better.” Defenses raised, unable to deny that truth, Techno bored his eyes into Wilbur, catching him off guard for a moment. “Phil may not have been around then, and you may not remember all of it, but I remember us in Pogtopia clear as day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s face paled suddenly, eyes flashing. “I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I remember, Wilbur, is you trying to convince Tommy that his best friend didn’t care about him. I remember how annoyed you got at his persistence, his loyalty to the country that you once held, the jealousy you had over that chest that Dream gave him.” Techno’s voice quieted, softened by regret. “I remember turning a blind eye. Do you remember what I was turning a blind eye to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s hand clutched at the table, knuckles white. He opened his mouth, soundless with a lack of defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may care for Tommy, perhaps more than Phil does, but don’t you ever frame yourself in your mind as the perfect brother. You hurt him, same as the rest of us. You shoulder just as much blame, Wilbur, you were the first one of us all to detonate L’manburg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears leaked from Wilbur’s eyes, tracing lines down a face carved from pain and stone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno drank his tea, letting it burn the back of his throat. As he did, Wilbur’s head came to rest in his hands, an expression of raw, pure horror on his face as he struggled to comprehend what Techno had laid out for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot water ran over his warmed hands as Techno washed the mug and set it to dry, patient and waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Prime, what did- I did- oh-” Wilbur’s voice was shattered, a whisper that barely reached Techno’s ears. “Does Tommy even want me back, why- why would I ever do that to him, Techno?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mild sympathy picked at Techno’s heart, the understanding that came from not wanting to recognize your actions. “Sickness. Regardless of how your intentions helped me reach our goals, you were barely recognizable after a while. You became… incredibly different to how you were before. How you are now. But-” he quickly spoke before he let the relief linger on Wilbur’s face. “That doesn’t mean that Tommy ever saw you as anything else. When you hurt him, when you went mad? To him, that was all you. Don’t separate that part of yourself and refuse to take responsibility. Understand it. Work with it. Do better now, for all the things you couldn’t do better before.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise Wilbur made was halfway between a sob and a laugh, and his shoulders slowly lowered from where they had been rigid against his ears. “You know, you’re pretty good at this, Techno,” he said thickly. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’ve dealt with something very similar yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno kept his face neutral, and it was only with the knowledge that Wilbur would never be able to learn the whole truth that he allowed the man to search his expression with those imploring brown eyes, allowing him to pick out small pieces, never enough to put anything together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Wilbur sat back, eyes clear and unclouded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno exhaled, and looked out the window. It wasn’t snowing for once, and the sky was clear. “Well, as long as Phil’s gone today we’re not going to make any progress on getting Tommy out yet,” he said. “Besides, I was already planning to head out today. I need more blaze rods if we’re gonna get enough potions for all of us to break into that prison and come out alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s eyes widened. “You’re going to help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nodded. “Yep. I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s smile blossomed, then wilted just as quickly, fear flashing over his face as he straightened. “Wait. Hold on. You can’t go today. Dream’s coming. He knows where Tubbo is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno froze, cloak half fastened around his shoulders. “Heh? What- how the heck would you even know something like that, Wilbur?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s expression darkened. “Your new tenant told him to, that’s how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s mind whirled, and he briefly felt unbalanced. “Ranboo?” The kid was weird, sure, and a bit of a nerd, but he was well-mannered, close to what Techno would call nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Wilbur said, simmering with fury. “I followed the tall bastard when he snuck out to the Nether last night, saw him talking to Dream, telling him where Tubbo is. They left for somewhere else afterward, together. And I mean, Dream was going to kill Tubbo yesterday, Techno. I can only imagine he’s coming to finish the fucking job once you’re out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno clenched his jaw, his sharp lower canines digging into the skin above his lips. “You’re sure?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s voice wavered between a playful lilt and a deadly serious tone. “You’ve got a traitor in your midst, Techno.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices roared in disbelief and rage, and Techno blinked hard to keep them at bay. “Come on,” he said, fastening his coat. “Let’s go talk to the guy, then. Get him to give us more information before Dream does try and show up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was by his side as they marched across the snowy plain, not bothering to knock at Ranboo’s pitiful excuse for a front door before opening the gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Ranboo?” Techno called out, one hand on Wilbur’s coat to hold him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few seconds passed, and then Ranboo’s head popped up out of the ground, an easy, if not slightly nervous, smile on his face. “Oh, hey guys! What, uh, what brings you over here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno wasn’t sure if Ranboo’s voice always sounded that nervous or if the guilt lingering in his tone stuck out all the more now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of the way, Ranboo,” he said firmly, gripping the handle of the axe that Ranboo had given to him. Why had he done that? Did he think that Techno was still allied with Dream, that they were all on the same side? Techno’s folded ear flicked, and he stared down at Ranboo with slowly rising anger as the younger stammered in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- y-yeah, okay, I mean, this is my house, but you can definitely, yeah, Tubbo’s just woken up a little bit ago, he’s doing a lot better…” Ranboo stepped to the side, and the two of them descended the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t hide from us, Ranboo,” Wilbur said slowly, dramatically, and Techno resisted the urge to smack the man for his theatrics. “We know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to happen any longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Ranboo followed the two of them, eyeing them warily. His hands were twisted together under his chin, moving anxiously. “What I’ve… been doing? You- you guys know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno?” Tubbo was sitting up in bed, blood cleaned from him entirely and bruises fading. “What’s up, are we getting going now?” He held his bandaged fingers up, flexing them as much as he could before too much pain crossed his features. “The regen potion is working, I can’t move too much of my fingers, but it’s workable, I can do, you know, whatever needs doing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno ignored him, opting to turn to Ranboo. He hated this small, cramped basement, everyone felt too close, none felt out of reach of his blade. “So you are working with Dream, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s face paled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the side of his vision Techno watched Wilbur pull a stone pickaxe from Ranboo’s chest and watched him walk along the netherrack walls, tapping on them, putting his ear to each part and listening closely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo froze, dual-colored eyes going wide. “N-no, I don’t, I’m not, I mean, I don’t, I don’t know, how did you, how, what?” His mouth moved in an endless stammer, unable to come to a complete sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ranboo?” Tubbo asked, indignant. “Techno, what d’you mean, working with Dream? Dream was the one who told L’manburg that Ranboo was helping you guys. Why would they be working together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo folded over on himself, long arms wrapping around his torso. Techno had never seen such all-consuming horror on the hybrid’s face, and swept away any lingering traces of sympathy he might have held. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I followed you out last night, you know, Ranboo,” Wilbur drawled. He paused by a part of the netherrack wall, glancing at Ranboo. “For a traitor, you’re shit at sneaking around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night…” Now Ranboo no longer looked scared, only confused. “Wh- I didn’t go anywhere last night, at least I, I mean, I don’t think I did. Where did I go last night, is there- is it-” He began flipping through that book he always kept on them, confusion dropping back to frantic panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur swung the pickaxe at the wall, sweat on his brow and determination in his movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell is going on?” Tubbo asked again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That section of the wall crumbled under Wilbur’s swing, and the room fell still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’d be the tunnel Ranboo dug for Dream to sneak in through, behind the mountain.” Techno stepped behind Wilbur, peering down the long tunnel, only just able to see the bright white opening at the end where snow had fallen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have-” Ranboo pressed his hands to his mouth, the book falling to the floor with a quiet thud. “I would never- I would never try and hurt Tubbo, why would- why would I do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tell us, mate,” Wilbur drawled, leaning against another part of the netherrack. “You’re the one helping get him killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I wouldn’t!” Ranboo’s voice rose in surprising fierceness before quieting down to a tremble. “Tubbo’s my friend, I- I don’t remember ever speaking to Dream, but I didn’t remember the times before and if, and if I did this then I- then I blew up the community house too, and I- I had- if I did this, then-” He sunk entirely to the floor, lanky limbs all folded over each other. He was shaking. Tubbo looked terrified, glancing between the tunnel and Ranboo’s silently crying form. Wilbur looked victorious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within the recesses of Techno’s mind, the voices screeched, crying out of betrayal and for blood, screaming that Dream was right outside, that he was coming, that he was here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a toss up whether they were lying or not. Technoblade took the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cloak rippling behind him, he stalked through the cave, axe at the ready. Cold wind whipped around him as he exited the tunnel, snow lifted from the ground and swirling around his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream stopped at the side of a snowdrift, his equally sharp axe in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technoblade,” he greeted easily. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you didn’t,” Techno responded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t mind me.” Dream took a step forward. “I’m just here to clean up some unfinished business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno stepped in front of the tunnel entrance, all but covering it. “You mean some murder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! You get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. That’s not gonna be happening today, Dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annoyance filled Dream’s tongue as he spoke his next careful words. “Oh, come on now. You can’t seriously be on his side, now. Isn’t he the antithesis of everything you stand for, Mister anti-government?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t about governments, Dream.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Understanding came next, layered atop the annoyance. “I see. You think you’ll be able to get him out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Techno blustered, voice as steady as ever. “And I think you’re not going to take another step forward, unless you want to repeat our duel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream chuckled. “I could make you get out of the way. You still owe me that favor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno stilled, eyes widening a fraction. “You’re gonna use the favor in order to go kill the kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere up the mountain, there was a rustling, like an animal hiding in the bushes. Techno’s ear flicked, unconsciously straining to hear more of the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I could always make you do it,” Dream said, sounding almost bored. “But no, you’re right. I won’t call in the favor now. I don’t need to! You guys will fail, and when you do, I’ll be there to clean up what’s left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno narrowed his eyes. “That a threat, Dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no. Merely a promise, and a reminder of the promise you made to me.” Dream held his hands up, all ease and bravado. “I get the message, I’ll leave now, and… see you around, Blade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Bye, Dream.” Techno raised one hand in a still wave, waiting until the man had entirely disappeared into the snowy horizon before putting it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technoblade! Hello, Technoblade!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The piglin-hybrid turned, all senses poised to attack. But there was no threat, only a gray-toned ghost that came tumbling down the mountain, landing in front of Techno with a smile on his face and blue staining his hands, a piece of which he offered up to the hybrid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the blue automatically, pocketing it. “I- hey, Ghostbur.” Techno looked up the mountain, and a sigh of relief tumbled from his lips as he caught sight of Phil picking his way down the side. Noticed, the older man raised one hand, a similar look of relief on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno!” Phil landed with a soft grunt, holding his hat to his head with one hand. “What the fuck was that? What was Dream doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blade of Techno’s axe fell into the snow with a soft, muted noise, and he nodded in slight resignation. “Apparently… Ranboo told him where Tubbo was hiding. Dream was coming to kill him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ranboo?” Phil blinked. “But he… Ranboo’s so… what the fuck?” A startled laugh left him, and Techno could only meet him with a somber frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like Ranboo. He can’t be in the rain, like me!” Ghostbur piped up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Wilbur saw it last night, snuck out and saw them meet up. Ranboo… well, honestly, I don’t know what to make of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go figure that out, then,” Phil said. “That tunnel leads to them, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they exited the tunnel on the netherrack side, Techno wondered belatedly how he hadn’t noticed Wilbur armed before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knife was pointed toward Ranboo, who was cowering against the back wall. Tubbo stood in between them despite being several inches shorter than them both, furious and pained all at once. Everyone was yelling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s head hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Phil darted forward, grabbing the knife from Wilbur’s hand before he could react to Phil’s approach. “Let’s figure this mess out before we go around stabbing people, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur laughed, backing away with his hands in the air. “That’s rich, coming from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were-” Phil pointed a finger at him, fury rising in his voice before he forced it to drop with his shoulders. “This isn’t about that. Put it to the side for now, Wil, please.” Techno crossed the room, and placed himself at Phil’s side, between him and Wilbur. “Ranboo. Explain.” His voice left no room for argument. “Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t- I don’t-” Ranboo looked like he was barely breathing, jaw opening and shutting soundlessly as he fought for air and sound. “I don’t remember, I don’t know, I don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s got memory problems, you guys,” Tubbo said stubbornly, still holding his arms up despite the way they shook. “Give him a minute, for Prime’s sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo, he was helping Dream come and kill you,” Techno said, mildly apprehensive at how protective Tubbo was over this traitor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but he also helped me recover. Why would he do that if he was just going to invite Dream to kill me? Why not take me out himself? At least let the man explain himself before we do anything rash!” Tubbo’s voice was steady, and his eyes glared at the three men, clearly not willing to budge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against the wall, Ranboo’s hands were pressed to his face, his mumbles indiscernible for a few moments before he lowered his arms, still seemingly talking to himself. “If Wilbur- if Wilbur saw me, or, whatever was- me, talking to Dream, then- oh, Prime, I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy! But then- I did, I did do it, all of it, and none of it’s in the memory book, why wouldn’t I- could I write it down in the memory book?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Stop freaking out.” Techno barked, miraculously drawing Ranboo’s attention. The ender hybrid stifled his sobs, breaths catching in his chest. “What else have you done, Ranboo?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, I- I think- I must have- blown up the community house. Not Tommy. And- and the other day, I had one of his discs. The green one, the- Cat. Dream gave it to me for safekeeping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s chest crumpled like he had been punched, and he stumbled away from Ranboo, turning to face him with pain in his eyes. “You had Cat?” he whispered. “Why didn’t you- what? Why would you have Cat, Ranboo, we could have- you could’ve told me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, I don’t remember how I got it, but it was- it was there. I only knew it was there because-” Ranboo cut himself off, like he was trying to stop himself from speaking. “Because-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spit it out, Ranboo!” Phil said tersely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo strangled another sob. “Because when I went into my panic room, I heard- every time I go in, I hear Dream’s voice, I hear Mellohi, I hear him talking to me.” The words came pouring from him like a broken fountain. “He tells me, reminds me of the things I did and how I helped him and he tells me to remember but I can’t, I can never remember, all I have is his voice and I didn’t want to trust it, not until the disc, and now, well, now…” he laughed, a broken, helpless noise. “Well now that just confirms everything, doesn’t it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno stared straight at Ranboo. He could feel Phil’s heavy gaze on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we trust you, Ranboo?” Tubbo voice tentatively. He was standing next to Wilbur, hand fluttering like he was looking for something to grab onto. “Can I trust you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo looked at Tubbo sorrowfully. “I- I thought so, but if I can’t trust me, then…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. So, let me see if I’ve got this, okay?” Phil said, his voice gentle with patience. “So, you hear Dream’s voice, and he tells you these things you did, but you don’t remember them. D’you think you’re maybe sleepwalking, or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His eyes were open,” Wilbur cut in, still glaring distrustfully at Ranboo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have eyelids,” Ranboo muttered, and Wilbur shut his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. So maybe you were sleepwalking, maybe you weren’t, but either way. Did you choose to tell Dream where Tubbo is? Did you choose to blow up the community house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Ranboo bit out, throwing his hands in the air. “I can’t- Phil, I can’t remember anything, how would I know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil crouched down in front of him, tone deadly serious. “If you were given the opportunity to blow up the community house again, right now, would you do it? Would you take that Cat disc and hide it again if it were offered to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no! I wouldn’t, I- I wouldn’t.” Ranboo looked up at Phil with wide, wet eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s lips stretched into a smile. “Good. Then it’s not you that’s having the problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what?” Ranboo stammered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, obviously some things are going to have to change,” Phil said, standing and brushing off his robes. “Off the top of my head, I’d say that you probably shouldn’t know anything else of our plans, and you’ve got to have someone with you always. We can’t know anymore about what happens unless we give it time, since you’ve got no recollection of it and I highly doubt Dream would give up that information easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s to minimize risk,” Techno explained, nodding in agreement. The voices split, half cheering for Ranboo, the others bemoaning the loss of blood spilled. “If you’ve got someone with you who can subdue you, then you can’t be a risk to anyone’s life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo swallowed tightly. “I wouldn’t- I’d never-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you say that for sure?” Techno asked. “How can you be the authority on what you do when you’re not aware?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo deflated. “No, you’re right, I- I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right. You can’t. Not until you get a better handle on it.” Techno bit back a sigh, realizing what he had just inadvertently signed up to do. Phil’s pride radiated from him like a ray of sunlight, and Techno thought he might hate the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo tilted his head, wiping tears from his face with a small wince of pain. “A… better handle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nodded curtly. “That’s for another time. After we get Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wil.” Phil turned. “Did you get anything else from when you spied on Ranboo and Dream? Anything else that could be useful to us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur frowned. “I’m not sure... the only other thing I remember Dream saying was that he and Ranboo left to go burn down Tubbo’s country but, I mean, you three destroyed L’manburg pretty thoroughly, so I’m really not sure what he meant by that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A choked noise came from the smallest, injured boy. “Snowchester. That’s- that’s my, that’s my home, and that’s- guys, that’s where the nukes are.” Everyone in the room stiffened in fresh alarm. “We have to go, we have to go now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo, what about your fingers-” Phil started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Tubbo shouted, all but tumbling out of bed. “We have to leave now, I have to- we have to go to Snowchester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s got to stay with Ranboo, yeah?” Wilbur pointed out. “Who’s first rounds? Nose goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll stay,” Phil said tiredly, holding up a hand. Tubbo lowered his hand from his nose, sheepishly smiling in apology at Ranboo. “Besides, Ghostbur didn’t come through the tunnel with us, Ranboo can come with me while I go find him again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo was nearly bouncing on his heels, and when he turned to run, Wilbur and Techno weren’t far behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The journey to Snowchester took nearly an hour. Tubbo’s injuries slowed him down, though he pushed through it further than Techno expected. He forced the two of them to stop for a rest at one point in Tommy’s house, when he saw the cold sweat on Wilbur’s brow and the way he touched a hand to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As quickly as Techno would allow, they started back up. Techno bit back the questions he had about this new place as they ran, hoping to find his answers once they arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only one with a trident, Techno cut through the icy straits faster than the other two could pick their way across the stone and soul sand bridge. Water droplets flung from Techno’s body as he landed atop a stone roof, heart dropping in his chest as he looked out over the village.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the frozen climate, some houses were still smoldering, the roofs burned and blackened beyond simple repair. The potato field far below had been scorched, deliberately ripped up and thrown about the meager field. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped down to the tunnel exit, meeting the other two as they came out of the dark. He met Tubbo’s gaze, desperate with hope, with a solemn shake of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, Techno felt pity as Tubbo fell to his knees and wept for his burning home.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next time: what remains of snowchester, and putting together a plan. </p><p>comments n kudos appreciated :)<br/>find me on twitter @sbimellohi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Obsidian Blown to Ash</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The remains of Snowchester, and all the time that has passed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam’s footsteps again. Tommy could distinguish them easily now, one of the only things he could do to keep his mind occupied while every other part of him slowly disintegrated and faded away into something pliant and moldable that Tommy had no energy to resist. At least he could distinguish between the only two people who would ever see him again. Whether it would be simply food, or real company: someone who would respond to him, laugh at his jokes, and make him feel like he wasn’t going fuckin’ bonkers in this place.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Simply put, Tommy was pretty certain he preferred Dream’s visits. Most of the time. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Make sure you eat today, Tommy.” Tommy's brow furrowed as the warden slid the food across, unused to the man initiating conversation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I- yeah, man, you know I can’t just… not do that, anymore,” Tommy thought of his short-lived hunger strike and a shiver coursed down his back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam only nodded, leaning against the wall just outside the prison cell. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Curling his lip at the man’s strange demeanor, Tommy started in on his bland meal, forcing himself to swallow every piece of it, as quickly as possible so he didn’t have to think too hard before his fuzzy brain latched onto a thought he shouldn’t be thinking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only- there was a strange texture within one of the bites, something stiff and sharp at the edges. Tommy spit the mouthful back into his hands, wrinkling his nose. “You trying to fuckin’ kill me, Sam? Put me out of my goddamn misery?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was met with silence.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy grumbled words he wasn’t even sure of under his breath, fingers brushing over something strange and square. It was stiff paper, Tommy realized as he unfolded it, and it revealed itself as a slightly wet, but full piece of paper. Tommy made a choked noise at the back of his throat, instantly able to recognize that splotchy, misspelled handwriting anywhere. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve got news. Big news. You know? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re coming. Wilber to. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re geting you out big man.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And then at the end, there was a small smiley face that blurred underneath Tommy’s tear-filled eyes. “What the fuck is this,” he croaked, fingers curling in the paper like a lifeline, proof of an impossible truth, faith in a fairytale. “Sam, you’re- you’re not fucking with me, are you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I need you to put that back on the tray so I can destroy it, Tommy,” Sam said quietly, a whisper Tommy barely heard.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He clutched the paper to his chest, stifling a sob. “I- this is- this is from Tubbo, but he’s- he’s-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You can’t let him know, Tommy.” Sam spoke with urgency, eyes wide and imploring as he actually entered the cell for the first time ever, gently prying the paper from Tommy’s fingers. Tommy’s shoulder jerked in a silent cry of grief, watching hope flutter from in front of his eyes. “You can’t, okay? If you want- this, then you can’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy’s mind spun. If he wanted what? The words were already fading from his memory; he clung onto what scraps he could. News? Wilbur? A promise, written in the handwriting of a dead man? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy almost laughed. Was he truly doomed to an eternity in isolation, his only company his one friend and the ghosts of two people he couldn’t save? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, the barest traces of hope lingered in his chest as Sam’s footsteps retreated, and Tommy swallowed, wiping his eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If there was even a chance, if he could believe in Tubbo half as much as Tubbo believed in him, he could shut his mouth against the threads that tugged at his thoughts, and cling to that hope until it inevitably dwindled to nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because once it did, Tommy truly knew nothing else would matter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The soul sand pulled at Tubbo’s feet as he moved along the stone bridge, a contradiction to the anxious thrumming in his heart. Wilbur followed behind him, a shadow that Tubbo was entirely unused to feeling over his shoulder. It was a quiet, strange, thrill, to look behind him and see a figure that he at one point had considered familiar and reassuring. Now, Tubbo wasn’t quite sure what to think of Wilbur. Every time he looked back at him, he could only think how happy Tommy would be if he could see him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest ached. His foot burned with every sluggish step. He kept moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tunnel for Snowchester came to an end, and Techno was there to meet them, his heavy gaze telling Tubbo everything he needed to know, even before he saw the dying fires.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhaustion crumpled his legs, and furious sorrow caused tears to spring to his eyes, pouring down his face. The saltwater soaked into the bandage on his cheek and stung the gash, pulling a pained gasp from Tubbo’s mouth. He pressed the palms of his hands to his cheeks, fruitlessly trying to stop the flow of tears from his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddammit!” he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why can’t- why can’t I just have one place? Every goddamn time, it’s blown up, it’s burned, it’s taken, it’s-” he hiccuped on a sob. “This always happens, for prime’s sake. I just want a home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forcing his sobs to subside, Tubbo became acutely aware that the two people with him were two of the people who had participated in the destruction of his home. He clenched his jaw, determined not to misdirect his anger. Dream was the one responsible for this, and maybe Ranboo, but mostly Dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he choked up, harshly wiping tears from his eyes and sitting up. “It’s been a long couple of days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shifted in place, looking more awkward than anything. Wilbur’s hand was outstretched, like he was reaching for Tubbo without any words to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo stood, exhaling harshly. “Right. Let’s see what there is to salvage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his house, there wasn’t much left. His upper floor was nearly completely disintegrated, leaving only the crumbling foundations and a gaping hole into the basement below. Tubbo lowered himself down, foot jolting in pain when he landed too harshly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above him, Wilbur sucked in a sharp breath, and Tubbo stared numbly at the massacre in front of him, at the unmoving bodies of the trading villagers scattered across the stone floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Tubbo turned away, Wilbur and Techno both reached down to pull him back up, not saying anything when Tubbo fell on the snowy ground again, shaking. He thought he might vomit. His cheek began to sting again. “We have- we have to give them a proper- a proper send off,” he whispered hoarsely. “We can’t just- we can’t-” he choked on his grief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above him, Wilbur and Techno exchanged a look. A hand fell on Tubbo’s head, and Wilbur’s voice was quiet and serious as he spoke. “Of course we will, Tubbo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No words were spoken as Techno used his pickaxe to create a makeshift staircase into the bloody basement, nor as Wilbur took Techno’s offered axe and faded to the forest, the only sound of his presence in the sound of trees falling to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo sat by Squeek’s grave, leaning against the stone with his knees pulled up to this chest. He stared out at the bay for a while, eyes glazing over as he listened to the waves lap against the icy shore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was touching the horizon by the time Techno’s hand touched his shoulder. Tubbo turned, mechanically, and met Techno’s solemn expression. “It’s time,” he said, and Tubbo clutched the side of the grave as he stood, a fresh wave of grief washing over him as he caught sight of the funeral pyre. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart sank heavy when he was passed the burning torch; his hand wavered, not yet pressing the flame to the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to, Tubbo,” Techno said, as gently as Tubbo had ever heard him. “We can’t risk them coming back as mobs, not when you and Wilbur have no armor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo pressed his lips firmly together and screwed his eyes shut to keep from releasing another wave of tears. Before his heart got the better of him, he thrust his arm forward, and the pyre caught alight. The three of them stood together, back exposed to the cold, their front warmed by the growing flames. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s hand came to rest on Tubbo’s back, and Tubbo stilled. He couldn’t remember the last time a hand on his back had been to steady him instead of shove him forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash drifted down from the sky, mixing in with the snow at their feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to make a camp,” Techno said pragmatically. “We could probably hollow into the mountain for shelter-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the depths of Tubbo’s exhausted mind, something sparked. He lifted his head. “I have- a bunker. Maybe it’s still-” Eyes stinging from the smoke, Tubbo turned to his ruined potato field, straining his eyes to look at the back wall, praying to Prime that he could keep one thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stone hadn’t been broken. The wall still stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s feet crunched in the frozen dirt, leaving the others behind without realizing. “Over here!” he rasped as loud as he could, stopping in front of the wall. “Yeah, behind here.” He stepped to the side as Techno swung his pickaxe, breaking away the stone wall, revealing a dark passageway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.” Wilbur whistled quietly, holding up his own torch to the tunnel. As the three of them traveled down the steps, Wilbur relit the torches, slowly filling up the cold, stone room with a flickering light. The flames reflected off of two sets of diamond armor resting on the stand, but Tubbo ignored them for the moment, electing to lead the other two down the ladder into the space below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This was the vault that I made so that Tommy and I could prepare for the battle against Dream,” Tubbo explained, spreading one arm wide. “I’ll be honest, I lost track of the stuff I prepared after a while, I know that one of these is full of mending books, which doesn’t do us much good now, uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno had already busied himself looking through the chests, and it sent a flutter of anxiety through Tubbo’s chest before he forcibly exhaled, reminding himself that for now, they were on the same team. Technoblade was a friend again. “Potatoes,” he said, standing back up with a handful. “Let’s make another campfire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur found a stash of wool in one of the chests, and set about making the three of them bedrolls while Tubbo constructed a campfire with the dry wood that was stored in another chest. Soon, the three of them sat around the flames, warming their hands from the chilly, uninsulated stone room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is smart, Tubbo,” Techno mused, looking around the space. “Practical. I like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo bit back a grin, pride thumping in his heart. He focused on turning his potato over in the fire. “Yeah. Spaces like this are pretty multi-purpose, that’s why I like them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I have a-” Techno started to speak, then seemingly thought better of it and shut his mouth. Tubbo gazed at him curiously, but Techno never finished his thought, and Tubbo let it go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stared up at the stone ceiling in silence, a contemplative look on his face. Figuring he’d be a better conversationalist, Tubbo turned his attention. “What’re you thinking about, big man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The recently un-deceased man failed to respond, and for a minute, Tubbo thought that he might be stuck with two people unwilling to talk to him. Then Wilbur shifted, eyes tracking the smoke as it floated up to the small hole in the ceiling about. “This feels very familiar, you know. The three of us, sitting down here underground in the dark, roasting potatoes. Makes me think of Pogtopia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s potato was hot in his hands. He kept it there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sat up, gaze heavy as he looked at the fire. Techno was staring at it as well, unblinkingly. “Only thing missing is, well, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo wondered if the potato was burning his hands, and he decided he hardly cared. “Yeah,” he said numbly, straining his ears to hear the echo of his best friend’s laugh as if it still bounced around these empty walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s glare at the fire held firm, but Wilbur shifted his to Tubbo, inquisitive. “What do you remember of Pogtopia, Tubbo?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dark, sleepless nights. Painful burns, searing the right side of his body. Lying on a bed for hours, unable to do anything at all. Sneaking through echoing tunnels, hurriedly tucking in his tie, struggling to put back up the false wall before President Schlatt found him out. Fixing up a potato farm, teaching Technoblade how to automate one for faster growth. Running around with Tommy along the stone paths that stretched all over the ravine, having one place where they could laugh and yell until Wilbur snapped at them to be quiet, that they were going to be found, that he was going to be killed again-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inside of the potato squelched against Tubbo’s clutching fingers. “What?” he said, moving slowly to tear apart the potato. “Pogtopia? I mean, it was, you know, I think it was good, for a while, it- it kept you guys safe, and, I mean, you had- your potato farm, and it was- it was good, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno snorted, drawing both their attention. “Come on Tubbo. Seriously? You liked Pogtopia?” He met Tubbo’s gaze, but there was no judgement, only the piercing truth. “You liked sleeping in a dark cave? You liked not seeing the sun for days at a time when you couldn’t leave? You liked watching Wilbur go crazy down there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in question flinched, looking down with guilt in his eyes. Tubbo swallowed nervously, biting his tongue to keep a rapid confession from spilling forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one likes being on the run and forced into hiding, Tubbo. You crave safety and stability, just like any normal person. You’re tellin’ me you actually enjoyed living down there in the ravine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo squirmed, casting his eyes to flames to avoid answering like the others had done before. “It… there were some good parts,” he attempted. “Not… not Wilbur going mad, obviously, but… the other parts, when it was good, we…” he trailed off weakly. “You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur laughed quietly, sadly. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better, Tubbo,” he said. “The more I remember, the more I get the feeling… it really wasn’t the best, was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo swallowed hard. “I think it would’ve been better if I had been there with you guys from the start, if I’m honest. I-” His voice wavered with the vulnerable truth he always thought would never become sound. “I hated having to be your spy.” An empty silence followed his words, and Tubbo rushed to make up for it. “It- it’s alright though, I only- I mean, I only d-died once, and it- the experience ended up serving me well when you made- when you made me president, so, it’s not all bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s smile was full of sorrow. “You still always manage to look on the bright side, don’t you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo nodded, swallowing bites of potato now gone cold. They stuck in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s mouth stayed open, hesitating before he spoke again. “You- you shouldn’t have been put in that position. I wish you had been with us from the start, I do. I’m sorry, Tubbo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Tubbo said automatically, blinking his eyes rapidly. “I’m not- I’m probably not the one you should apologize to, though. At least- at least sometimes I, you know, Tommy was there with you all the time, I had- you know, somewhere else, sometimes, before I was found out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The implications of his words hung heavy in the air before Tubbo even realized what he had said. Wilbur made a soft, choked noise. “Was I… you’re saying I was… I was worse than Schlatt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s gut clenched, tongue freezing, unsure how to explain the wariness he felt from a man he had once trusted, whose kind words had become poisonous barbs, whose once joking shoves started leaving bruises on Tommy’s arms. At least Schlatt had been consistent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you were,” Techno grunted, dampening the flames. He rolled out his bedroll in the dying light, purposefully obtuse to the eyes that had turned to him. “Schlatt may have been an awful leader or whatever, but he didn’t go insane. Didn’t hurt his closest allies. Didn’t bomb a country.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno, you bombed the same country,” Tubbo blurted, desperate to bring Wilbur’s attention away from him, terrified of a reaction from the man he hadn’t experienced in ages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying I’m any better,” Techno said simply, laying down on his back. The fire was nothing but fading embers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo reluctantly laid down to sleep, pressing his ear to the pillow in a weak attempt to block out Wilbur’s quiet sobs. Guilt churned in his stomach. It felt all too much like Pogtopia all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke at dawn, jolting at seeing Wilbur’s sleeping form before recent events came back to him. He looked around his space, rapid breaths slowly subsiding as he recognized the bunker he had built, not the dark and damp ravine they were hiding in. Tommy wasn’t out collecting firewood, Dream had him trapped in the prison. And Techno and Wilbur weren’t here to take back L’manburg, they were here to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno was waking up at the same time, and Tubbo winced when he could hear the warrior’s joints pop from where he sat. He looked away quickly when Techno caught him staring. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat and standing. Wilbur blinked open bleary, puffy eyes, and Tubbo looked away from that, too, up to the ladder and upper floor of his bunker. “Let’s get started, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Using the regeneration potion he had taken with him, Tubbo asked Wilbur to help him apply it to his healing fingers, relaxing when he at last could wiggle them without too much pain. He found extra clothes for himself in a chest, and strapped on the enchanted diamond armor without too much struggle. By the time he had finished that, the others had finished cleaning up the campsite, meeting Tubbo on the top floor of the bunker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s an extra set of armor for you, Wilbur,” Tubbo offered, but the man shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wear armor.” It was the same response he always gave, and while Tubbo knew to just accept it, Techno let out a long, annoyed sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear to god, Wilbur, if you die again because you refuse to wear armor,  I will keep Phil from bringing you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s eyes widened, but Wilbur only laughed at that, loud and free in a way that, for once, reminded Tubbo of the Wilbur who had led their first revolution, not the second. He smiled, and motioned for them to follow him up the steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no need to find a keycard to unlock the door to the factory, it had been busted down entirely, the door lying across the floor off its hinges. Tubbo ran into the factory breathlessly, flicking on the lanterns. The displays were smashed, scattered across the floor, and the cages for the nukes were dented, but fixable. The tables for the nukes were nowhere in sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo cheered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two made a noise of confusion, but Tubbo ran to the far corner of the room, removing a stone brick to push a button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the floor, the stone retracted in two spots, opened two small chasms from which twin stone tables rose from. And on those tables were two gleaming nukes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Prime,” Wilbur muttered, eyes transfixed. “I’ll be honest, somehow, I thought- I didn’t think you actually had nukes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo nodded smugly, allowing himself to feel pride for this one thing, his thing. “Pretty sweet, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno was glaring, body tense like he was prepared for a fight. “So this is what you were going to use on us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Tubbo exclaimed. “No, I never wanted to have to use these at all. It’s a deterrent, and I’d say it’s one that works pretty well. But I don’t want to have to use them, Techno, not if I don’t have to.” He gave the piglin hybrid a slight smile. “From what I saw of your place, it was pretty nice, although I think your beehive could use some spacial improvements.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno turned away, lips downturned and a wordless grumble leaving his mouth. Tubbo did his best to ignore him for the minute while he ran through his checklist of the nuke status, but was pulled out of his focus when he caught Techno’s mumble, obviously meant to be heard by him. “You better not use these to nuke us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustration mounted quicker than Tubbo meant it to, and snapped. “For Prime’s sake, not everything’s about you, Technoblade!” He froze, eyes flying wide as he recognized what he had just said. His hands shook over smooth steel, terrified to turn around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s laugh was not what he expected to hear first, high and carefree in a way that Tubbo knew without looking would have the man’s head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut in laughter. Even less expected than that was Technoblade’s following laughter, a quieter chuckle. It was only then that Tubbo turned, eyes squinted and body tense, prepared to face retribution. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno only shrugged. “That’s fair. You’re right, this is about getting Tommy back. For once, this is actually about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo sputtered, tension draining from his shoulders as Techno gave him a small, teasing smile. Wilbur’s laugh started up once more, filling the room with an infectious emotion that soon left Tubbo fighting to keep a serious expression on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, guys, focus,” he ordered, confidence filling his chest as the two older men turned to him for instruction. “We’ve got a lot to get done, and not very much time if Dream is going to try and come back and kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was, in fact, an almost insurmountable amount of work to do. The displays within the factory needed to be repaired, as well as the control modules out at the docks and the launcher itself. Not only that, but the nuke needed to be redirected toward the prison, more hazmat suits needed to be made, and they needed to make a real, concrete plan of attack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first day was all set repairing the launcher. It was intricate, painstaking work that left Tubbo sweating even in the frozen climate. Techno, unadept to the intricate technology Tubbo was working with, elected himself to repair what Dream had destroyed, tilling the potato farms and replanting, cutting wood to rebuild what had burned of Tubbo’s and Jack’s houses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur, Phil, and Ranboo showed up at the end of the first day, bringing food and a new aura of protectiveness between them. Ranboo was taken down to the bunker, and there was a forlorn look on his face as he met Tubbo’s gaze from across the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s heart ached to see how his good friend was being treated, but he understood with reluctance why. Still, it didn’t stop him from missing Ranboo’s good cheer and kind, understanding presence that Tubbo had gotten used to in his everyday life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo worked until his eyes were blearly and his fingers couldn’t stop trembling. It was only then that he straightened, back aching tremendously, and started back toward the bunker. He blocked it up after entering, leaving heavily against the stone wall as he descended the staircase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire was still going when his hands uncurled from the rungs of the ladder, and Phil was sitting there to greet him, legs crossed in front of the fire. The flames and the shadows danced across the man’s face, though Tubbo thought that the sharp expression on his face would have existed without the illusion of such shadow. He shivered, and convinced himself it was because of the cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you eaten?” It was a question that wasn’t really a question, and though Tubbo wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bedroll, he took a seat across the fire and took the potato from the older man’s hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo ate the baked potato, and wondered if there were any words between them. He and Phil hadn’t been on the best terms recently, and on only vague terms before that. What Tubbo knew of Phil was of vague attempts at conversations regarding the past that had left Wilbur looking annoyed and forlorn, and put Tommy in a downright pissed off mood. There were things in their past that Tubbo was not privy to, and that was fine with him. Personal business was personal business, and all that. It didn’t keep him from having questions, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Phil spoke quietly, a muted groan leaving his mouth as he stretched his arms behind his back. “What’s the plan for tomorrow, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo swallowed. “Well, I’ve got to keep working on the mechanics for the command bases and the stuff within the factory, but that part shouldn’t take more than another day. I’ve still got to rebuild the command centers themself, as well as the frame to hold the nuke. Um, that’s got to be able to move so that we can position the nuke itself, and I’ve got to be able to input coordinates to the exact spot on the prison to make this whole thing work.” The world suddenly felt unbalanced from its place atop Tubbo’s shoulders, and he tipped his head back, loosening his tight chest with a long, slow exhale toward the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil nodded at the edge of Tubbo’s vision. “That’s a lot to get done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s assuming it all goes right the first time,” Tubbo said wryly. “That’s not including setbacks and- and failures, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There might be setbacks, that’s true,” Phil said calmly. “But that’s just part of the process, isn’t it? Better to do it right the third time then have it be huge fucking mess the first time.” Phil’s words, gentle with patience and understanding, sounded so foreign to Tubbo’s ears. He hadn’t spoken to Phil once since Doomsday, and on that day there had been no kindness in Phil’s voice as he rained hellfire upon their nation. But now, Tubbo could see the gentleness in his frame and he thought he understood, a bit better, how this man had once been a father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still. “Phil, I think you’re quite the enigma,” he remarked, not knowing how to describe a man of such extreme contradictions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Phil raised one eyebrow, lips twitching in a smile. “Why enigma, of all words?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo shrugged, speaking lightly as he crumpled the foil in his hands. “Because you talk all- all nice like this, to me, when you were really quite pissed off at me before. You’re helping us right now, even though you don’t care all that much for Tommy. It’s just- strange. Maybe strange would be a better word for it, yeah. Phil, you’re a strange man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s face shuttered, flicking between a hundred different emotions before settling. “Did Tommy tell you that? That I don’t care for- about him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dangerous territory. Tubbo was pretty sure Tommy would be pissed if he were hearing this. He steered away from the past he wasn’t sure of, and kept his voice in the present. “You did kind of destroy his- our- I-” Emotions caught his words in a stammer, and he cleared his tired throat. “Let’s just say that you and Techno were about the last people I expected to agree to help me with this whole thing of rescuing Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man’s shoulder drooped, and he nodded. “That’s… honestly, that’s understandable. I don’t think either of you will ever understand my reasoning behind helping Techno destroy L’manburg, and I can live with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t your reasoning that you hate governments, and want them gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s Techno’s reasoning,” Phil corrected. “I think governments can be good, when in the hands of the right people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo looked down at his hands, encased in shadow. “Was I the wrong person?” A thread of vulnerability crept into his voice, exhaustion pulling his carefully constructed walls to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil clicked his tongue softly. “Government tends to take good people and destroy them. You’re a good person, Tubbo, but presidency doesn’t suit you. It only hurt you, and you hurt others with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt thrummed in Tubbo’s chest, and he watched in his mind’s eye as Tommy was dragged away by Dream, as Quackity shackled the monitor around Phil’s ankle, as Techno raged against iron bars. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, not if I can help it,” he said quietly, wincing at the memories that raged otherwise. He twisted his healing fingers in his lap. They pulsed in distant, aching pain, just a touch away from being too sharp to bear. He could feel the disbelief coming from Phil without needing to look up, and Tubbo himself wasn’t even sure if what he said was true. Something rotten sat in his gut, and it whispered the truth. “Actually that- that’s not true,” he admitted, even quieter. “I want to hurt Dream. I want to make him pay for what he did to- to me, to Tommy, to Ranboo. He- I thought I might be alright with him killing me, but now, I just- I just want him gone. I’m tired of him, and- and everyone who keeps trying to hurt me and Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence. The fire had faded to softly stirring embers. Exhausted tears dripped from Tubbo’s face as he watched the red glow fade in front of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s voice floated tentatively, uncertain. “Tubbo-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired, I think. Sorry, Phil. Um- have a good night.” Tubbo awkwardly turned toward his bedroll and lay down on it, head turned away from the man. Phil may have said something else, some offer, but Tubbo ignored him. Embarrassment flooded his brain, and he managed to pin it on his weariness before he allowed exhaustion to take him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he woke, there was something heavy draped around his body, it took him a minute to recognize it as a blanket tucked over his shoulders. Tubbo blinked open bleary eyes, and listened to the sound of footsteps ascending up stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. His fingers ached, and he reached for his regeneration potion. As he dabbed it onto his fingers, watching the pink material soak into his skin and bones, he became aware of another familiar presence in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s everyone else?” Tubbo asked Ranboo, leaving the blanket draped around his shoulders as he walked across the chilly stone room to where the enderman hybrid sat against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Ranboo admitted. “They left, said that you could stay down here with me until they got back. Oh, and, um, Phil said that you probably shouldn’t tell me anything, since, you know, I could betray you all without remembering I did it… again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Tubbo said softly, sitting down next to Ranboo. “I’ll be honest, I nearly forgot about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, don’t steal my brand.” Ranboo’s joking words were heavy with sadness. “I’m really sorry about Snowchester, Tubbo. I know how hard you worked to build this place, and I just… helped Dream destroy it, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and you kept Cat from us, and you helped destroy the community house, apparently. You’ve got a real bad streak,” Tubbo said bluntly. Ranboo cringed, slightly shaking shoulders drawing up to his ears. “But, you know,” Tubbo moved the blanket from over his shoulders to drape across both of them best he could. “I’ve rebuilt before, lots of times. It’ll be done again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have to rebuild your home so many times,” Ranboo lamented. “You should be able to stay safe somewhere and not have to worry about this kind of stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo laughed, bitter notes sticking to his voice. “Ranboo, that’s very kind, but try as I might, I just keep getting pulled into conflict. Even if I try as hard as I can, I don’t think anywhere I go will ever be truly safe on its own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… sad,” Ranboo replied, a frown tugging at his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess. But that’s what the nukes are for, Ranboo. Ensuring safety. Not causing hurt. Not if I can avoid it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Ranboo hummed listlessly, and it was only when he barely shook his head that Tubbo remembered he shouldn’t be talking to Ranboo about their plans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… do you remember if Dream said anything about Tommy when you saw him?” Tubbo ventured, already preparing himself for disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo flipped through the pages of his book, but soon enough shook his head. “It’s a total blackout. I don’t remember leaving you, or meeting Dream, or digging the tunnel. Any of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it was worth a shot, I suppose,” Tubbo mused. “That’s alright.” He sighed, resting his chin in the palms of his hands. “Man, I miss Tommy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you…” Ranboo’s voice lingered with hesitance. “Do you want to talk about it, or something? I can… I can listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thousands of words sat on Tubbo’s tongue, ready to be spilled. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he would say, but the words were there. “Better not to, probably,” he eventually said. “Who knows what, you know, Dream might be listening, or something. Like he’s wiretapped your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah,” Ranboo said, energy draining from his voice in an instant. “I hate this. I just want to help, but everything I try and do is just another liability.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, man,” Tubbo reassured. “Once Tommy’s out, we can figure out what’s going on with you, alright? You’re next on the list.” His eyes widened, excitement bubbling in his chest. “Can we experiment on you? To figure out what’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo jumped. “What? No, I’d- I’d rather not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo deflated. “Aw, alright. Well, what’re we going to do, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno’s going to try and help me, I think. We had a talk last night, and, um, he thinks he might be able to help. Apparently we are… kind of similar? In a way. Not really, but, um, enough that he might help, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Tubbo smiled brightly. “That’s good, I hope, Ranboo, I really hope he helps you. And, you know, even if you do accidentally screw up everything with your weird connection to Dream, I won’t blame you. It’ll be alright, it’ll all work out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo’s smile was uncertain, but it was there. “I’m not sure that’s smart, but… thanks, Tubbo. I hope it does work out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was another few hours before anyone else came back down into the bunker, a stretch of time long enough that Tuboo started to get restless, pacing up and down the stone room, even engaging Ranboo in a short game of tag for no other reason than to pass time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Techno appeared on the top floor, looking down on the two teens. “We’re swappin’ out,” he informed Tubbo, who was red-face and breathless from running. “You can go back to working on your… you know, now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo cheered, waving a hasty goodbye to Ranboo before ascending the ladder and bolting up the stairs to crisp, cold air, leaving the two hybrids behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur!” It felt oddly familiar, to leave wherever he had been sleeping for the day and go straight to Wilbur, awaiting orders. Only, now Tubbo stopped short, returning Wilbur’s amused grin, knowing that he was the one to give the orders for now. “Where’s Phil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur indicated one thumb toward the factory doors. “Smelting. We just came back from a bit of mining.” Tubbo tipped his head, noticing the smears of dirt and the dusting of stone and coal that covered Wilbur’s coat. “Figured you could use some new materials to make, you know, whatever you’re doing. The nukes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo grinned. “Thank you!” he called as he darted inside. There was a bit of a stuttering stop as he met Phil’s gaze, his exhausted admission instantly coming to mind. “Morning, Phil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Afternoon, actually,” Phil said dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo blinked, realizing he hadn’t actually thought to look at the direction the sun was coming from. “What? Is it really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. You needed the rest, you were running yourself ragged yesterday. Besides, someone’s got to stay with Ranboo for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Technoblade really going to help him?” Tubbo asked tentatively. “So Dream won’t be messing with him anymore, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil nodded. “I hope so. It won’t be easy, but I think he’s going to try. By the way, Ghostbur’s set himself up to finish repairing your house, at least until he gets distracted again. No guarantees about the quality of it, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Tubbo cut Phil off slightly indignantly, giving the man a confused smile. “Ghostbur helped build, like, half of New L’manburg back. I probably would’ve given him the title of Creative Director if Karl hadn’t already asked for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil shrugged. “I guess, yeah. If you trust him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Tubbo said. He rolled his shoulders back, adjusting to the stress that squeezed them. “Right, how much iron did you all get?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peeking into the furnaces, Tubbo let out a shout of exclamation at not only the iron that was smelting, but the pieces of ancient debris in the second furnace. “Yo!” he crowed, a grin splitting his face. “I have- I have one scrap left in my enderchest, we can make an ingot with this! Where’d you- how’d you have time to go all the way down to the Nether?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Techno and I had a few pieces of ancient debris kicking around,” Phil said casually, as if it was nothing. “I know you lost all your shit, and I’m assuming Dream’s going to try and stop us. You’ll need a weapon for that, mate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo thought his smile might be in danger of reopening the recently healed gash in his cheek. “Oh, my- thank you, Phil!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil laughed, all ease and energy. “No problem, Tubbo.” His eyes glimmered, and Tubbo knew that this was an arm extended, a step toward fixing what they both had broken and finding their common ground. “Now, how about you direct Wilbur and I? How can we get this shit done with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo laid out the instructions to make the key cards, as well as how to reframe the structure for the base of the launcher, which Tubbo had found yesterday to have just been entirely ripped from its foundations and tossed into the ocean below. Leaving the two of them to work on that, Tubbo headed back out with half the iron Phil and Wilbur had mined. He caught sight of a ghostly shadow flitting between the walls of his house, and Tubbo raised his hand in an enthusiastic wave at the grayscale ghost. Ghostbur waved back, a piece of blue in his hand. Tubbo’s smile got a little tighter, and he turned toward the platforms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching the first one, the one furthest away, Tubbo sighed at the sight of gashes marred by melted metal, clear signs of a fire aspect sword cutting through the stations. He tried not to think about Dream cutting through his work with his blade, and he failed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo swallowed tightly, remembering the heat that had radiated off the blade that Dream had pressed to his throat. The world around him crumbled to blackstone, and Tubbo stared at his best friend’s terrified face, listening to him pleading for Tubbo’s life. Tubbo’s body was lead, not willing to fight for himself and unable to stop Tommy from doing so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s knees hit the blackstone, crumpling to the ground with blood pouring from his throat. He heard distant laughter, Tommy’s screams. His screams? Someone was yelling, yelling at him, for him, to him, someone was always yelling. Everything was so loud. He embraced the quiet, looming darkness, enveloped for a brief, blissful second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frozen water dripped from his hair, and Tubbo gasped, lungs struggling to inhale. Wilbur stood over him, eyes wild with fear like they had been when Schlatt took the stage for the first time. His lips were moving, soundless until they weren’t, and Tubbo could hear his name being repeated, along with the instruction to breathe. He did, he followed, forcing his chest to expand and contract in a pattern that got the right amount of oxygen to his brain and body. The ringing in his ears and the heat at his throat faded, and Tubbo swallowed against a dry, painful throat and looked up at two Wilbur’s, confusion slurring his voice. “...What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo!” Ghostbur exclaimed before Wilbur could, and Tubbo blinked as some unfamiliar texture was shoved into his hands. “Tubbo, please, have some blue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo took it, squeezing it tight with one hand. “Th-thanks, Ghostbur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur looked uncomfortably at the ghost of himself, stepping between him and Tubbo. “Holy shit, man, what happened to you?” Wilbur knelt down next to him, keeping Tubbo steadily upright with one hand on his shoulder. It twinged, it was his injured shoulder, but Tubbo said nothing. It grounded him, and he pressed his other palm into the stone, feeling the loose pebbles and gravel dig into his callused skin. “I came over to ask you a question, and you were just- collapsed, you wouldn’t respond. What the fuck happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um.” Tubbo honestly wasn’t sure himself. “I just- remembered something not super great. I guess it- I’m not sure, honestly.” His heartbeat began to slow, and Tubbo nodded his head, grasping coherent thoughts and holding onto them as tightly as his rattled brain could. “Sorry, Wilbur, didn’t mean to make you worry about me, man. What question did you have?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was something about the key cards, some instructions that Tubbo had forgotten. Tubbo rattled them off by rote, the familiar words with the memory of making them for the first time soothing his brain. When he finished speaking, his hand wasn’t pressing so painfully firmly into the stone anymore. “That answer your question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Hey, Tubbo, do you…” Wilbur trailed off. “Like, d’you want someone out here while you work? In case… I dunno, that happens again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I think I’ll be fine,” Tubbo lied through his teeth, smiling at Wilbur. “It was just a freak accident, that doesn’t happen too often. It’s fine, man, let’s get this stuff done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur frowned, but when Tubbo stood and got back to working without another word, he could soon hear Wilbur’s footsteps fade along the stone walkway, and his shoulders tensed once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ghostbur, you can go too,” he said with reluctance. The ghost, who had been staying silent through all of it, smiled at Tubbo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m almost done with your house!” he said brightly. “It’s a very nice house, Tubbo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ghostbur,” Tubbo said honestly. “I really do appreciate it, you fixing up my house for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur grin was wide, but after a few days of seeing the real Wilbur walking around, Tubbo thought it almost looked artificial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have some blue, please, calm yourself,” Ghostbur said as a farewell, pressing more translucent material into Tubbo’s hand. Tubbo squeezed it as Ghostbur silently faded back into the distance, staring with blank eyes as a deep, navy blue stained his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers ached. He got back to working, crafting table set out and iron stacked at the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that long, however, before Wilbur’s footsteps returned. Tubbo turned to look at him quizzically. “I told you I don’t need someone to watch me,” he said with a slightly annoyed grumble. “I’m fine, Wilbur. It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Wilbur said. “I’m taking a break.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo let out a short laugh. “You were gone for like ten minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur gave a short, toneless hum. “It’s been nearly an hour, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, alright then, break deserved, I guess.” Tubbo shrugged, and got back to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you going to take a break?” Wilbur asked entirely unsubtly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo wanted to laugh. “I don’t have time for that. Not right now.” Hours spent building the podium, carving out his bunker, and reconstructing the whole of L’manburg became the foundations of muscle memory for any project, hours of tireless working, broken up only by Tommy’s insistence that Tubbo follow him somewhere. Tommy would make Tubbo set down his tools and drag him to the bench or to the top of some flower filled hill, and Tubbo would be privately grateful for the break and at the same time aching to get back to his work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prime, he missed watching sunsets with Tommy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’m going to go back in there for quite a while, actually,” Wilbur drawled. “I think Phil’s cross at me. And I’m cross at him, so I’ll admit I’m not really making things any smoother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How come?” Tubbo asked mindlessly as he hammered the iron into sheets for the side, connectors for the walls and base to replace what had been scarred, a platform for the mechanisms connected to the keycard. One thing at a time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m mad because he’s apparently made some pretty shit decisions since joining these lands,” Wilbur said sharply. “He’s mad at me because I kept fucking up a bit of the keycard and he had to restart it twice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s two pretty different levels of things to be mad about,” Tubbo remarked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s laugh was brief and bitter. “I suppose it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo fell silent for a moment, mulling over the words in his mind. “You know, it’s alright that Phil destroyed L’manburg,” he said eventually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Now Wilbur’s laugh was confused, forcefully light. “Tubbo, that’s- I mean, it’s our country, it was our home! You ran it, didn’t you? It was your- your L’manburg!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo nodded, and he saw houses created of spruce, water lapping at the sides of the platforms, and the bright coral below. “I wasn’t that good a president, Wilbur. I mean, I did some alright things. You should’ve seen New L’manburg before, Wilbur, it was, I mean it was beautiful.” A sorrowful chuckle left him as the nostalgic images faded to the obsidian grid that hovered so menacingly in the dark sky as bombs and otherworldly creatures destroyed his home he had built back up more times than he had had a home himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it was.” Wilbur murmured, voice full of wistful longing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it didn’t stay… it didn’t stay great. Dream made me exile Tommy, and then Quackity- Quackity convinced me it would make our country safer if we went after Technoblade for what he did, and we had to hurt Phil to get there.” Tubbo clenched his hand around a flat sheet of iron to keep it from shaking. “Quackity convinced me… no, Wilbur, I was in on it. I thought it would bring L’manburg peace if we did this one thing, but it only made everything so much worse in the end. Let’s be honest, between you and Schlatt, I was the worst president. I got everything destroyed for good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t even realized he had entirely stopped working until he felt Wilbur’s hand on his shoulder, looking down at him severely. “But you also built it back up, didn’t you?” Wilbur asked. “And people loved it, that’s more than Schlatt could say. And hey, you didn’t go crazy and decide to blow up L’manburg. So that makes you better than what I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You led our country to independence, Wilbur,” Tubbo croaked. “The stuff after aside, I think that makes you number one automatically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a mixture of shining pride and fading jealousy in Wilbur’s brown eyes. “Let’s be honest, Tubbo, that really was Tommy, wasn’t it? He fought the duel, he gave Dream the discs.” Tubbo had no response, not willing to falsely criticize the truth for the sake of defending the man in front of him. “And if you really thought you could stop Techno, then you’re a fool on both ends. Both for trying to kill him and for thinking you could stop him from coming after your country. That’s just how Techno operates, if he wants something done it’ll get done, no matter what anyone else has to say.” As if Technoblade was right next to them, Wilbur leaned in with a dramatic stage whisper. “He’s fuckin’ stubborn like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo giggled, managing a nod. “He certainly is, yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s hand left Tubbo’s shoulder to ruffle his hair, a familiar action Tubbo hadn’t felt in so long. “You’re alright, Tubbo. You did what you could, but it’s not entirely your fault it ended up like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you blame Phil?” Tubbo asked after a moment of avoiding what Wilbur had just said. “Is that why you’re mad at him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s gentle smile became strained. “Among other things, sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly confused. “If you aren’t blaming Technoblade, who was part of it like Phil was, and you’re not blaming me, who, let’s be honest here, basically invited it, how can you blame Phil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur leaned back against the stone wall. “Now you’re asking the hard questions,” he said after a long exhale. “I guess I thought he’d choose better. Maybe choose me, or Tommy, over Techno for once. But he didn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy was with Techno, at one point. I thought- for a while, I really thought Tommy was going to help Techno destroy L’manburg,” Tubbo admitted. “But he didn’t. He- he betrayed Technoblade. Or they betrayed each other, honestly, I don’t remember, it was hard to get the full story in between all their yelling.” He and Wilbur shared a short laugh of understanding. “But he stood by me, and L’manburg, in the end. I think that screwed up whatever he and Techno had, which I guess extends to Phil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but Phil’s his-” Wilbur groaned in frustration, his words of challenge cutting themself off. “He just, he told me he’d do better, and he didn’t. So I’m a bit fuckin’ frustrated with him for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better at-?” Tubbo cut off, opting to shrug and switch tracks. “Well, he’s helping us now, isn’t he? That’s something. That’s, you know, better than bombing a country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t have helped if you hadn’t accidentally shown up at his doorstep, though,” Wilbur noted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, Phil’s one of the last people I would’ve asked for help if I had a choice,” Tubbo agreed. “But I think that’s what makes it better. I could’ve gone and gotten other people, probably. Maybe. Actually, I don’t know how many allies I have left. Point is, he is choosing to help us. He’s not exactly bound, and yet he’s working on those keycards right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur huffed. “I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo laughed at Wilbur’s petulant tone. “What, are you sulking because I’m right and you’re wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Wilbur said instantly, doing his best to frown despite the sparkle in his eyes and the twitch of a smile in his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took the rest of the day to finish both control modules, unfortunately having to restart one side when a random Drowned that had swam too close to the docks hurled a trident into the side of the module. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Drowned didn’t even leave behind the trident when Tubbo had jumped into the water to stab at it with his hastily crafted iron sword. Lame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil presented him with two finished keycards by the time the sun was just beginning to touch the water on the horizon, and Tubbo hurriedly dashed away to test them, one at a time in each slot. They fit perfectly, and Tubbo was certain his cheer could be heard all the way back at the factory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur demanded Tubbo take a rest for the evening and get back to it tomorrow, and cheered by the success of today, Tubbo agreed. For the first time in what felt like ages, the evening that their small group spent together was full of ease, to the point that Tubbo could hardly believe that a few weeks ago two of the men sitting across the campfire had been his enemies. There were still moments, jokes passed between them that didn’t land quite right, furtive glances passed between the two anarchists. But when Phil laughed at something Wilbur said and Wilbur’s face lit up without a trace of bitterness, Tubbo’s grin widened and he had a feeling that things might turn out alright between them, once Tommy was out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all let the fire die out, and they turned in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Tubbo woke to scuffling, scrambling. He was on his feet in an instant, paranoia awakening him at the sudden noise. He winced at the torch he could see Techno holding aloft, and the two of them stared at the sight ahead of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil, who had been sleeping in front of the ladder as a precautionary measure, had his hands wrapped under Ranboo’s arms, yanking him down the ladder as the hybrid frantically attempted to climb it. Noises that might have been words, but not ones in any language Tubbo understood, spilled from his mouth, the furious tone of it clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, he’s really hanging on,” Phil grunted. “Kid’s a string bean, where’s he been hiding this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The torch was shoved into Tubbo’s numb hand as Techno rushed to Ranboo, yanking him off the ladder with a sudden force. The three of them stumbled back, a shout of exclamation rising from Phil and waking Wilbur, who stirred from his bedroll with a confused, then alarmed look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ranboo!” Techno yelled sharply. Ranboo’s dual colored eyes searched the room wildly, unblinking. “Ranboo, wake up.” Tubbo started forward, and Wilbur’s grip on his wrist held him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo continued to struggle, snarling, and eventually Phil’s sigh of exasperation reached his ears. “Just knock him out, mate, he’s not waking up on his own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terror chilled in Tubbo’s gut as the blunt handle of Phil’s sword came down on Ranboo’s head, sending the lanky hybrid crumpling to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he alright?” Tubbo called, voice trembling as he stared at Ranboo’s open, blank eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He will be, mate,” Phil called out reassuringly. “You can go back to sleep, one of us will stay up and keep watch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo was certain no one slept for the rest of that night, all four of them staring at Ranboo’s quietly unconscious form, waiting for the unknown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It never came. Eventually, Techno was standing, stretching, and climbing the ladder. Tubbo watched him go, sitting up with bleary, confused eyes as he returned just as quickly, now with Ghostbur at his heels. Techno’s face was set in a grim line as he relayed the news to the others. “Snowstorm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How bad?” Tubbo asked, clinging to the hope that maybe it was workable, maybe they could still get some more done today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shook his head. “You can’t even see a block out there, I only found Ghostbur because he was hovering near the wall,” he said. “No way anyone is getting out to the platform.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo sunk back into his bedroll, letting out a frustrated noise. “What’re we supposed to do? We could’ve finished tonight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur frowned. “I mean, is there any way of working through the snowstorm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t exactly secure the launcher to the platform from inside,” Tubbo said despondently, lowering his voice to keep his words from Ranboo. “Or run a blank test, or set the coordinates. We can’t do anything in this weather.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil shook his head. “No way you’re going out to do that kind of work in this weather, yeah. No sense in you getting frostbite or fuckin’ hypothermia, that’ll just make you useless for the actual day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo huffed, sitting in thought for a moment. Then his head shot up. “No, we can! We can do something, we can finish the hazmat suits. The prototypes and materials are in the factory, I’ll head out there and get those, we can work on those today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil seemed to consider, exchanging a glance with Techno. Tubbo didn’t really care what their decision was, he was going to find something to work on today no matter what. He tugged on his boots and fastened his thick, fur-lined coat securely around his body. When he walked to the base of the ladder, Phil met him there, a thick cloak dyed light blue adorning his shoulders. “Best to travel in twos,” he said, and Tubbo was only relieved that Phil wasn’t trying to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno hadn’t been lying when he said he couldn’t see further than a block out there. Tubbo moved on muscle memory, Phil’s hand on his upper arm keeping them together as they walked against the stinging waves of snow that pummeled the earth, again and again. Tubbo kept his bearings on stone walls and spruce logs, fumbling until he heard the growl of his zombie guard passing in the wind. His head lifted in the endless white expanse, placing a hand on Phil’s to direct the two of them toward the sound. “This way!” he yelled. He had no clue whether Phil heard him or if his voice too was lost to the storm, but either way after a few more agonizingly slow minutes trudging through the snow, a huge stone wall became visible, the first shade in a world encased in the wind and snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil started coughing once they were inside and had shut the door, laughing shakily as the two of them got used to breathing in something other than the sharpness of cold outside. “Holy shit!” he called. “We haven’t gotten a storm this bad in Techno’s area for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s honestly really unfortunate timing,” Tubbo said blithely, moving toward the chest that had the hazmat suits. “Now, these suits were made for me and Jack Manifold, so there’s only two, and we need…” he trailed off. “Five? Six, one for Tommy? I mean, he’ll survive a bit of radiation poisoning, but probably shouldn’t keep him exposed for too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a plan,” Phil agreed, pulling leather and cloth from the second chest. “Shouldn’t take too long with all of us working on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Tubbo said, somehow pushing the smallest amount of cheer into his voice. “Yeah, we can do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trek back to the bunker was just as arduous as when they had left, only this time with the wind pushing at their back they had to keep their balance all the steadier, for fear that one gust too many would bowl them over and screw up their sense of direction entirely. And it almost did, a strong surge of wind tipped Tubbo forward, hand banging awkwardly against a low stone wall. But Phil hauled him back up, kept a firm hand on their arm, and they made it back to the dark bunker, which was a welcome change from the blinding snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Tubbo said, passing out the materials. “If we all work steadily on this, we should be done by the time the storm lets up. Then, there’s only a little bit more to do. We’ve got this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt a bit like arts and crafts, Tubbo noted later with humor, as their group sat around their campfire and lanterns, stitching together hazmat suits to their specifications. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo woke up some time later, a dazed look in his eyes. No one was surprised when he said that he didn’t remember trying to escape. No one tried to meet his eyes, either, except Techno, who ushered Ranboo to a far corner of the room where their conversation wouldn’t reach the ears of the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo focused back on the hazmat suits. The storm would be over soon, and they could get this done with, they could get Tommy back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storm didn’t let up for two days. The suits were finished by the end of the first day, but when Tubbo went to check the outside of the bunker the next morning, the snow was up to his knees and there was still more hurreling down from the slowly lightening skies. Tubbo shut back up the bunker, turning to his compatriots with a defeated sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate this,” he said later in the night, talking to all of them and none of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur let out an annoyed sigh from beside Tubbo, idly watching his ghost counterpart talk to the blue sheep in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Phil placated, smoothing out the fabric of his hazmat suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno sat in silence, eyes shut. Tubbo wasn’t sure if he was asleep or just ignoring them, and Tubbo figured he couldn’t blame him either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night passed without incident, and in silence. Tubbo felt the space fill with apprehensive energy, the sense of time wasted, the worries of tensions causing some kind of explosion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo lay on his bedroll, and tried to pretend that Tommy was already back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same morning that the storm finally let up, Tubbo got a message on his communicator. It was the first one he had gotten since he had left the borders of the SMP with Tommy by his side, and it almost startled him to hear the buzzing that came with a ping. With everyone’s eyes on him, Tubbo drew out his communicator, gripping it tight in his hand as he stared at the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Awesamdude&gt; can we talk?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is it, Tubbo?” Techno asked first, breaking the silence that had consumed the space for the past several hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright, mate?” Phil asked a beat after, and Tubbo realized the communicator had slipped from his grasp, dropping to his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Tubbo began, mind whirling, attempting to understand every possibility and intention behind this message before he spoke. “It’s- it’s from Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam?” Wilbur asked, brow crinkling. “Wait, I recognize that name. Isn’t he-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s the one who built the prison,” Tubbo said breathlessly. “He’s the warden of it, he- he knows where Tommy is! He has to know!” He picked the communicator back up, fingers nearly trembling as they flew across the keypad</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Tubbo_&gt; what about?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, Tubbo,” Phil said the instant Tubbo had sent his message. “What does he want? How do you know he can trust him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo stared at the screen like it would magically make a new message appear. “He said he wants to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A vague, ‘can we talk’ message? Sounds like a trap,” Techno said, raising his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam’s nice, though,” Tubbo insisted. “And he gave me and Tommy stuff before we left to face Dream. He can’t be totally on Dream’s side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People will do a lot of things for money, or freedom,” Phil said darkly. “Or this could be another Ranboo situation, and he could not be in control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo frowned, and typed another message.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Tubbo_&gt; can i trsut you?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Awesamdude&gt; i need your help</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Awesamdude&gt; i hope so</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“He says he needs my help,” Tubbo murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With no other details?” Techno raised one hand, palm up, and dropped it. “That’s a total trap right there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Tubbo_&gt; help with what?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he’ll give me more information if I ask,” Tubbo said thoughtfully. “Still, I think it would be worth it to meet with him. Maybe it’s not even about the prison.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Awesamdude&gt; I shouldn’t say…</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, it’s definitely about the prison.” Tubbo chirped. “He’s being vague on purpose, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trap,” Techno called bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s not, we don’t need to be so pessimistic!” Tubbo said indignantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno huffed. “If you go and get murdered by Dream, I officially absolve myself of responsibility, because I warned you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo laughed. “Come with me, then. You’re the only one who can take Dream on his own, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you want that?” Techno quirked an eyebrow. “Dream could call in that favor on me, if he is there. Your safety isn’t guaranteed just because I’m around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… Then Phil, come with us too. Wilbur can stay behind with Ranboo, and the three of us can go meet Sam.” Before anyone else could argue, Tubbo tapped back a response to Sam.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Tubbo_&gt; where cn we meet?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, great!” Wilbur said with false brightness. “Super psyched to sit in a dark room with two fuckin’ amnesiacs, one of whom is technically part of me-” Ghostbur reached out with a handful of blue, only to shrink back at Wilbur’s stony glare and return to chatting with Ranboo. “But Tubbo is right, you’re probably the best group to go if we want to keep my return under wraps from Dream as much as we can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil nodded, sighing with clear reluctance. “Fine. I don’t trust this one bit, just to be clear, but we can go and see Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Awesamdude&gt; the tunnel before lmanburg</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>&lt;Tubbo_&gt; k</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said the tunnel before L’manberg,” Tubbo reported quietly. “Let’s go check on the storm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still snowing heavily, but not so much that Tubbo couldn’t make out the structures in the distance. He knew that once they left the bay of Snowchester it would clear up anyways, so he urged the other two toward the tunnel, keeping track of their shapes best he could amidst the snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked the length of the tunnel, Tubbo tightened the straps of his diamond-plated armor, tightening his grip on his fresh diamond axe. Distantly, he thought he would have liked to turn it to netherite, maybe enchant it, but they were too far along the tunnel for that now. He would do that later, he was sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, the storm soon turned to sunshine and a gentle, salty breeze as the end of the tunnel appeared in their vision. Tubbo shed his thick coat, but neither Phil nor Techno removed their winter cloaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a wholly different configuration than Tubbo was used to, flanked by two anarchists who no longer wished him harm. It was equal parts comforting and unsettling, with the knowledge that either one could end him in an instant should they choose to, and yet they didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was trust, Tubbo reflected. Or, this was simply the terms of an unspoken agreement, that this protection only lasted so far as their mutual goal. Actually, he preferred to think of it as trust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no time to pause by Tommy’s house as they moved toward the tunnel, despite how Tubbo’s eyes automatically flicked to the double chest that rested in the center of the home, frozen in a time when all the two of them had was preparations and no expectations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flicked away, and met Sam’s from where the man stood within the tunnel, trident in one hand. “Hey, Tubbo,” he started, head darting to look at all three. “I- didn’t expect so many reinforcements, I’ve got to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Sam!” Tubbo said brightly, ignoring his comment of reinforcements. “You… said you wanted to talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, Techno and Phil exchanged glances, keeping their weapons at a ready, and eyes peeled for any unnatural flash of green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. They’re not going to try and kill me, right?” Sam shifted nervously, and Tubbo shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends, I reckon,” he replied. “What’re you here to talk to me about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s- it’s about Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo had been prepared to hear those words and yet they still felt like a punch to his gut, ripping the wind from his lungs. “Oh?” he said weakly, clearing his throat. “What about Tommy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam took a breath. “I- well, you know I’m the warden of the prison, so I’ve been watching over- I’ve been put in charge of observing Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you working with Dream?” Tubbo interjected, forcing his words over the pounding in his ears. “Why are you telling me this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All his plans for a casual, friendly conversation had left him. His mind had narrowed to a razor sharp focus that he couldn’t afford to have, seeking an outcome before a plan, reckless thoughts and actions far too similar to the very friend he was trying to save.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam held up his hands, words so quiet Tubbo had to strain to hear them. “I am, but not by choice. I didn’t know this prison would be for Tommy, I swear. After what Dream told me, maybe I should have expected it, but I… I didn’t, and that’s on me. And Tubbo, I’m telling you this because I want to get Tommy out of there. What Dream’s doing… it’s breaking him, Tubbo, I can’t stand for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s spine straightened at the admission, and he took a breath. “Sam, do you swear that you actually want to help, and that this isn’t some kind of trap?” he said as firmly as he could. “Swear on something important, you’ve got to mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nodded, holding out a hand. It was angled down at an awkward angle, making up for the height difference between them. “I swear on the life of Fran, I’m not trying to trick you,” he said resolutely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the heck is Fran?” Tubbo distantly heard Techno say. Tubbo held out his own hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in luck, then, Sammy boy,” Tubbo said with a slight grin as he gripped Sam’s hand, shaking it tightly. “We’ve already got, like three-quarters of a plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s the thing, though,” Sam said hurriedly. “Dream can’t know I’m helping you guys. If he finds out, he’ll… I mean, I don’t know exactly what he’ll do, but it’s Dream. It isn’t going to be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, well, that’s fine,” Tubbo replied. “It’s not like Dream’s going to expect you to be in on the plan to nuke your prison.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The color drained from Sam’s face faster than Tubbo had thought possible. “What? You can’t- you know that the prison is made of layers of obsidian, right? And there’s a water barrier in between, TNT isn’t going to do anything, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not using TNT,” Tubbo confirmed. “We’re using something much stronger. At the very least, it’ll be able to blow through a couple layers of obsidian.” An idea sparked in his mind, and his eyes shot wide. “Sam, you know the, you know, schematics of the prison, right? You can tell us the best place to blow it so we can get in, right? The right place that’ll get us an entrance, but won’t hurt Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s eyes were just as wide, though his showed terror, not the excitement that Tubbo was feeling course through his veins. “Okay.” He took a breath. “Alright. Can you tell me your plan, again?” He produced a book, and as Tubbo talked, began drawing something on one of the pages. Tubbo explained his plan in the vaguest terms possible, though it didn’t amount to much more than ‘bomb the prison, get Tommy, and get out’. When he finished talking, hands fiddling with nervous energy, Sam turned the book around, a rough sketch of the prison scrawled across the page. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got one condition before I give you the information, okay?” Sam began. When Tubbo nodded, he continued with “Whatever you destroy-- you have to collect the materials to replace it. I already collected the layers of obsidian once, I do not want to do it again. So. Do we have a deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo nodded instantly. “As long as it’ll get Tommy out of there, I’ll do whatever,” he agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, the best spot would probably be here.” Sam drew a slightly shaky arrow to a spot in the prison. “Right at the top. That’ll destabilize the corner, should give you a space to slide through into the holding cell hallways. Tommy is at the other end, so he shouldn’t be hurt by the damages.” He sighed. “The thing is, Tubbo, I can’t do anything about the security mechanisms of the prison, of the alarms or the guardian. You’re going to get mining fatigue, so it’ll take a while anyways before you break Tommy out of his cell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo swallowed tightly. That was a lot of factors piling up. Almost impossible odds loomed over him, not even taking into the account the variable of Dream showing up or anything else that could go cataclysmically wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had to go through with it. Before Tommy got any worse. Before Dream found him and took his final life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sam,” he said with as much certainty as he could muster. He took the page that Sam offered, tucking it into the pocket of his shirt. “This is going to work. It has to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so,” Sam sighed, a pained and forlorn look in his eyes. “I can’t stand to see Dream break him again. Kid’s gone through too much.” He met Tubbo’s eyes, sincere with worry. “You both have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s mouth tasted bitter with guilt. “Can I do anything? What if-” He gasped. “Could you sneak Tommy something from me? Like a- like a note, you know, like they do in the books?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The books,” Sam laughed, and flipped the page, offering Tubbo the quill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments of shaky, near indecipherable handwriting later, Tubbo handed the note back to Sam, a wide smile on his face. “Thank you, Sam! I hope it’s not too much longer before he’s out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too, Tubbo. Is that it?” Sam ripped the note from the book, folding the piece of paper thrice over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! We’ll be going now.” Tubbo waved farewell and turned to the other two, who had been silent observing the conversation the entire time, likely having their own commentary on it. As the three of them started back to Snowchester, Tubbo brought up the idea that had been spinning around in his mind for some time. “So, we’re going to have to split up for this whole thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh?” Techno asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Ranboo can’t come with us because of what Dream has him, and either way, we’ve also got to get the discs back. If Dream still has the discs, then this is just a stall to the end of the game. But if Tommy has them, then it can all be over. So! Here’s what I’m thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plan, discussed and reconfigured and argued about over the next day and a half, was as such:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To prepare, they crafted armor, enchanted axes, and brewed potions. The bunker stank of melons and netherwart for hours afterwards, and Tubbo steadily carved a name into his new axe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bane o’ Bees II.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo, Phil, and Wilbur would be the ones to storm the prison after it was nuked, using borrowed tridents from Techno and Ranboo to get up the side. This was only met by grumbling from Technoblade for about four hours, which Tubbo considered a success. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Techno and Ranboo would journey to the nether portal that connected to Dream’s weird bunker, coordinates provided by Tubbo. They would get the discs and put them in their enderchests, pulling Dream’s focus in two directions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The after… that part was to be improvised. If Tubbo was honest, he didn’t have much of a plan beyond making sure Tommy was out of the prison, even if the after meant that the two of them had to run and not look back. It would be leaving his home behind, again, but it would also be getting his home back, in a way. A house could always be rebuilt, it was only wood and stone, or quartz if you wanted to be fancy. Tubbo could always rebuild somewhere else, with Tommy by his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brand new netherite axe strapped at his side, Tubbo stared up at the newly repaired launcher and the gleaming nuke set within. This, at least, he was confident would work, even if nothing after went to plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil stepped behind him, a steady and reassuring presence once again. There was still that dangerous aura Tubbo had come to recognize around him, the dark, foreboding energy that wrote his moniker of the Angel of Death across his forehead like a brand. But this time, the energy wasn’t directed at him or his home. It was a shared goal that now drove them both, and neither were planning to accept anything less than success.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stood at the other control module, keycard in hand, brand new crossbow at his hip. There was the same deadly serious look on his face that rested on Phil’s, evidence of the history between them. It was the madness and grief and anger that had broken them apart, until now, under one common goal. Tubbo hoped, both for Tommy’s sake or theirs, that accomplishing today wouldn’t tear the fragile bonds apart once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Technoblade and Ranboo had already left, early in the morning before Tubbo had even brought the nuke out of the factory. Techno had left with a grumble about his trident and quick, quiet words shared with Wilbur. Tubbo hadn’t been privy to the conversation, but whatever it was set the same grim look across the man’s face that lingered now, even as his eyes darted to Tubbo for confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo raised one hand, fully healed fingers counting down as his other hand slid the keycard into the slot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no foggy clouds of breath as two hands turned identical keycards, only horrible silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, mechanisms turned, pistons fired, and there was a deep, successful rumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Tubbo blinked, he almost couldn’t believe the sight of the nuke rising in the air faster than anything he had seen, almost disappearing into the sky. Tubbo dashed from the side console to the launcher, checking over the display for any discrepancies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked to the others, an impossibly wide smile on his face. “It worked!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Celebrations were short, all of them rushing to get their hazmat suits on and dive into the water, tridents carrying them to the smoking wall of the prison. It had blown nearly clear through the corner edge, as Sam had said, though Tubbo could admit it was an even wider hole than he was expecting. It only made it all the easier to use the trident to dash up the side of the wall, vaulting over into the smoking remains of the blackstone floor. The obsidian wall to the left had suffered clear damage, cracking and crumbling in a way Tubbo had never seen from the sturdy block. To the right, two cells had crumpled under the weight of the explosion, obsidian, redstone, and blackstone all crumbled in a disastrous heap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy!” Tubbo couldn’t keep from yelling in victorious excitement, even as the mining fatigue attempted to pin his body down with its phantom weights. Wilbur and Phil were right at his heels as Tubbo fumbled to retrieve the pickaxe and extra suit from his inventory and they ran across the prison floor, passing empty cell after empty cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last cell door looked the same as all the other intact ones, but for a moment, irrational fear gripped Tubbo’s heart with the thought that somehow Tommy’s cell had been caught in the blast, even though no other cell close to it had been. He moved faster, mining fatigue straining his muscles with every movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Tubbo came to a stumbling stop in front of the last cell, heart dropping in his chest. Behind him, father and son let out twin shouts of exclamation and horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within the cell, Sam sat slumped against the wall, the blade of his own sword buried deep in his chest. He stared at them with horror in his eyes, and though his lips moved soundlessly, Tubbo knew exactly whose name he was saying.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so in case you're still a bit thrown off, all of Tommy's bits at the beginning have not been linear to the other chapters. Hopefully this chapter made that bit especially clear.<br/>Next time: the final chapter</p><p>comments and kudos appreciated!!!<br/>find me on twitter @sbimellohi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Once Blind, But Now I See</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>and it comes full circle.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sam!” Tubbo screamed as soon as the iron door was removed, darting into the room and dropping to his knees in front of the man. “Oh, Prime, Sam, what- where-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Behind him, Phil sucked in a sharp breath, producing a healing potion that had been meant for Tommy and passing it to Wilbur, who quickly soaked some bandages with it before kneeling down next to Tubbo.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tommy-” Sam gasped, clutching Tubbo’s hand so tightly it ached. Tubbo gripped back with equal force, guilt welling up in his chest. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He found out, didn’t he,” Tubbo said mournfully, stomach turning. “Oh, Prime, Sam, this is all my fault-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the corner of his eye, he could see Phil and Wilbur analyzing the sword wound, and Sam’s bloodstained hand waving them off without looking, and Tubbo’s eyes shot back to meet Sam’s urgent look. “Took him,” Sam grunted. “Hurry, Tubbo. Find him.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where?” Panic caused Tubbo to shout, but Sam only shook his head, repeating a variant of his earlier words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll be fine.” He pushed the words out through clearly gritted teeth, leaving traces of dark blood on Tubbo’s shimmering diamond chestplate as he weakly shoved the teen away. “Go!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tubbo heard Tommy’s echoing cry, saw the blade he held to his throat. Tears welled in his eyes. “Let us help you,” he pleaded.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Next to him, Phil set down a half empty potion, lifting Sam’s limp hand and placing it on the bottle. “Come on, Tubbo,” he said roughly, standing and stepping away. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tubbo didn’t move until Wilbur gripped underneath his arm and hauled him to his feet, snapping him out of his frozen state. “Tubbo.” His voice was both firm and trembling at the same time, determined and terrified. “We have to go.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It could have been hours or days until Dream’s next visit, as usual, Tommy had lost track of time. All he knew was that his stomach still turned uncomfortably from the meal he had eaten some shorter amount of time ago. The pulsing of the redstone lamp above him lingered behind his eyelids when he shut his eyes. He couldn’t even pull the meager blanket on the cot over him without his hands spasming and shaking uncontrollably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, of course, there was the note.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t even know where to begin on what he knew of the note. He couldn’t even remember half of it, his mind far too fatigued to hold onto it with the same clarity that he had… once held onto things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Supposedly, someone was coming. Supposedly, Tubbo was. And, impossibly, Wilbur too. Tommy wasn’t sure what was the hardest to believe. He shut his eyes to avoid thinking about it. The redstone lamp continued to glow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Dream’s footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s eyes shot open, excitement coursing through him seconds before his body wound tight with paranoia. His teeth cut into his lip, the sharp tang of blood on his tongue forcing his consciousness into the present just as the cell door opened, the iron door soundless on its hinges as it moved. Tommy forced himself to sit up, though he could only get half-slumped against the wall, head ringing as he leaned it against the obsidian wall. The iron door remained open, even as Dream stepped fully inside. Tommy wondered distantly if Dream thought that he wouldn’t run, and found himself agreeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something in Dream’s hands, a wooden bowl with steam rising from it, the scent slowly wafting its way over to Tommy. It wasn’t any kind of hunger that drew him closer, only the knowledge of what would happen if he didn’t bend to Dream’s voice. He stood before his mind caught up with his actions and crossed the room, nose instinctually wrinkling as he looked down at the bowl of stew. “What,” he muttered, very much wishing to sit down again to take some of the fatigue off his constantly aching muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to eat this.” There was no spoon in the wooden bowl that Dream pressed into his hands, and Tommy looked down at the bowl for a brief moment, incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam already brought me food,” Tommy protested. “I’m not hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s voice had a razor edge. “And I’m not asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stew smelled awful, and it tasted worse. The texture was somehow both slimy and grainy at once as he forced it down his throat. Mouth empty, Tommy inhaled sharply, gripping the empty bowl so tightly that he began to wonder if he could break it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Tommy only heard Dream’s voice distantly, staring down at the empty bowl and trying to remember why this stew had looked so familiar. His head was pounding more fiercely than normal, and Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, stifling a groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A firm hand shoved him forward, his footsteps echoing in the larger hall as he passed the threshold of his cell door. Alarmed, Tommy’s eyes shot open, only to be met with the same darkness like he never opened his eyes at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wooden bowl dropped from his hands, clattering on the blackstone floor below. Unbalanced in the dark, Tommy fell forward, barely able to hold onto the survival instincts that caused him to drop his head and turn his shoulder as he tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. He could only hear the sound of his own breathing, overwhelming in the darkness. It felt all too much like being crammed into a small space, smaller than his cell, trapped with nothing except his own thoughts and walls and darkness pressing in on all sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a shallow breath, sliding his hand around the floor to feel for a wall to brace himself with. “Dream?” he called out, voice shaking. He hand slammed into something that wasn’t floor, and Tommy leaned his aching shoulder against it, keeping his feet under him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no response, and for a horrible moment Tommy wondered if he had temporarily lost his hearing as well. Suspicious stew had a variety of effects, almost a gamble if you didn’t remember what you put into it while making it, and it became downright chance if you never got to see it made at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s he doing out of his cell?” Sam’s voice, the familiar hard and affectless tone accompanied by two sets of footsteps. “Dream, what is this? You were the one who told me that he wasn’t supposed to leave, what is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know about the note, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s lungs froze, mouth open in a delayed exhale. He squinted, trying to see further than an inch in front of his face, but continued to see only pure darkness. He couldn’t even see the redstone lamp anymore, not even when he knew he was shutting his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s voice seemed to give nothing away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What note?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What note?” Dream’s indignant laugh was high and reedy, and there was a thud, and a groan that Tommy recognized from Sam’s mouth. “Don’t try and play dumb, Sam. I know who you’ve been helping.” Metal screeched against metal, and Dream merely laughed again. “Oh, Sam. Don’t forget the terms of our contract. You can’t harm me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy flinched at the sound of a sword clattering against the ground, swinging one hand in front of his face to block a nonexistent blow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream-” Now Sam’s voice sounded panicked, and footsteps were growing fainter. “Dream, this isn’t-” His voice cut off with a choked gasp, and Tommy pressed his hands to his mouth, stifling a noise of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could only just hear Dream’s voice, a quiet murmur not directed toward him, and even though he strained his ears, Tommy couldn’t make out any words. Then-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The iron door clanged shut, there were Dream’s footsteps, and then a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, panicked words spilling from his lips. “Fuck- get away, what’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just me, Tommy.” Dream gripped his shoulder tight enough to hurt, only relaxing once Tommy had stopped trying to twist away. “Come on. It’s not safe here anymore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Sam?” Tommy asked, turning his head like he would be able to see the warden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s grip tightened again, shoving him down the hallway, and Tommy winced, fighting back the urge to shout and spit curses. It wouldn’t get him anywhere good. “Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was steered, wholly blind to the world around him, down hallways and past redstone mechanisms Tommy only had the vaguest memory of seeing the first time he had entered the prison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the fuck did you have to make me go blind, Dream?” Tommy complained as they continued to walk. There was silence, followed by the sound of pistons shifting, and then Tommy froze as a gentle breeze brushed against his face, almost tender in the way it ran through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just in case you’re still stupid enough to try and run,” Dream responded, moving Tommy forward again. Tommy let out a surprised shout as he plummeted forward, foot meeting air instead of ground, and Dream hauled him back, now with a tight arm around his shoulders, a breathy imitation of a laugh close to Tommy’s ear. “Whoops. Almost forgot to tell you about the steps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s breaths came quick as he took a far more tentative step forward, like at any moment the world would crumble out from underneath him and send not only his sight but his body hurtling through an endless darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” Tommy ventured to ask, listening carefully as the sound of crashing waves drew nearer, water lapping against what might have been stone or sand, some kind of shore. The wind picked up, rustling Tommy’s hair with a slightly harsher breeze. There was no sun to warm Tommy’s face, only gusts of winds that blew at his blind body, threatening to topple him over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a boat in front of you,” Dream guided, pushing down on Tommy’s shoulders with both hands. Tommy’s legs buckled, arms shooting out to catch him as he fell halfway into a curved wooden space, hip banging painfully against the ridge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This would be a whole lot fuckin’ easier if I could see,” he grumbled, scrabbling for a handhold while the other half of his body was heaved into the boat. His cheeks burned in indignation and shame as he struggled to get his bearings and sit up straight amidst the darkness. His complaint was met with silence, and Tommy would have started to think he had been abandoned had the boat not begun to move, throwing his balance off and groaning as his aching back slammed into the wood behind him. Oars cut into the water, their impact splashing Tommy with their force. “Where are we going?” he asked again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, if I was going to tell you, I would’ve already. You can’t see right now for a reason, so shut up. I’m not answering you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teen tucked his chin to his chest, blinking away the frustration and embarrassment at the reprimand that caught in his throat. Still, stubborn to a fault, he set his jaw. “Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy.” Dream’s voice had a hard edge to it, the way he spoke when Tommy would be too stubborn to give up his armor or too clingy when Dream had to leave him alone again in exile. He stilled, barely breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Tommy wrapped his arms around himself, reaching for armor straps that weren’t there. “Sorry.” He folded in on himself, teeth catching on the scab on his lip where he had bit it earlier. The boat rowed on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lost track of time as the boat cut across the water. Tommy sunk his mind into the darkness, unsure whether his eyes were open or shut, knowing that it didn’t matter. The oars rowed, the water splashed, and occasionally, he could hear Dream humming. He was humming Mellohi. Tommy’s fingers dug into his side, pressing at his ribs. It hurt less than hearing that tune. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, there was a new sound. And if there was one sound that Tommy was incredibly intimately familiar with, it was the sound of an explosion. The deep boom of the explosive hitting its target, the way the aftershocks rippled out through the earth and hung in the air as a lasting echo. His head shot up, swiveling his head as if it would clear his blindness. “What the fuck was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Tommy, you know what that was.” For all the carelessness in Dream’s voice, Tommy thought he could still detect a harshness in it. His shoulders curled further, hoping he hadn’t upset Dream even further. “Don’t act stupider than you already are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy swallowed tightly. Of course he knew the sound of an explosion, not like he hadn’t heard one every day for weeks, not like he hadn’t had to watch his home explode in front of his eyes thrice over. He wanted to know the where, and the why, but he choked back his words and tried once again to be distracted by the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boat bumped against something, then came to a rocking stop, and a second later two hands gripped Tommy’s arm, yanking him to his feet and out of the boat. Tommy stumbled on stone as the arm now back around both shoulders pushed him up and then down a short hill, footsteps once again growing in their echoes before Dream’s arm pulled him back, keeping him from walking any further off the blackstone platform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy blinked, stifling a noise of surprise. There was a blackstone platform underneath his feet. The effects of the stew were wearing off, he could see more again. He blinked again, then once more, clenching his jaw to keep the relieved smile from spreading across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The platform shifted under his feet, and Tommy’s gut lurched as it began to descend in a horrifying familiar way. “Wait…” he murmured, attempting to take a step backward. “What the fuck are we doing back here? What the fuck, Dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until I have the prison back under my control, you’re not safe there.” The platform moved at a dreadfully slow pace, lowering them down one block at a time</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s lips twisted in a confused frown. “My safety?” he asked, brain moving sluggishly. “Aren’t you just trying to keep me fuckin’ locked away from everyone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing it to keep you safe,” Dream reassured. “All anyone else has ever done has hurt you, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well- well you’ve hurt me too,” Tommy protested, head swirling in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because I had to…” The regret that was heavy in Dream’s voice drained as his voice trailed off, and then Tommy heard someone entirely different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it hadn’t been for Dream’s grip on him keeping him upright, Tommy thought he might have flinched backwards, still unable to see much beyond a foot in front of him. The voice that had spoken was far away, but that deep monotone was something Tommy knew he’d recognize at any volume. He opened his mouth to vocalize his surprise, but Dream’s hand, now on the back of his neck, tightened in a clear warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technoblade.” Dream’s voice was full of forced friendliness, and Tommy held back a shudder as the platform continued to descend at an agonizingly slow pace. He could almost make out a bit more of the floor below him, and blinked hard, trying to regain his vision back quicker. “I didn’t realize you knew about this place. What a surprise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Because I remember you handing me the key three weeks ago and saying ‘Oh, Technoblade, feel free to stop by anytime, in case you want to learn all about my weird evil plan’.” Tommy wished he could laugh at Techno’s familiar deadpan delivery, but between his limited sight and the knowledge that Dream was with him, his paranoid mind fought to determine this as some kind of trick, or betrayal. Techno had worked with Dream to bring down L’manburg. But he hadn’t stopped Tommy when he had dropped by to borrow some things before he went and killed Dream. Tommy frowned and squeezed his eyes tight for a moment, unsure what to believe. Dream’s hand stayed steady, and against all warring thoughts, Tommy found it grounding him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Ranboo!” Dream called brightly. Tommy’s head twitched, brows furrowing at the new name. “I thought for sure they would’ve all killed you once they found out what a traitor you are. It’s good to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo’s stammering voice reached Tommy’s ears as the platform came to a shuddering stop. “Dream, I- I don’t remember betraying anyone. I didn’t- I didn’t want to, it was you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve made your allegiances clear, I think,” Dream dismissed, and Tommy heard Ranboo draw in a sharp breath. Tommy tilted his head, just slightly, catching the edge of the walls and the hallway that branched off to the side. At Dream’s push, Tommy followed him down the steps, leaving the moving platform behind. “Anyways, Techno. I don’t know why you came here, but I think it’s time-” Dream’s voice cut off, sharpening in sudden anger. “Technoblade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” The piglin hybrid sounded thoroughly unbothered, as he always did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t-” Dream laughed. “Technoblade, I’m going to ask you to put my discs back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s going to be tough, Dream,” Techno hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, but Tommy caught it in the slight inhale. “Seeing as how I burned them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three voices exploded in shock and rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what?” Ranboo, his quiet, panicked yelp easily covered by the other two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Tommy screeched, legs moving of their own accord toward the sound of Technoblade’s voice just outside of his ever-widening circle of vision. He thought for a second he would have fully broken away from Dream had the man not twisted and wrapped the arm that had been around Tommy’s shoulders around the front of his throat. Tommy jolted to a stop, hands rising to scrabble at the grip, but Dream pulled him backward, keeping him stuck next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell, Technoblade?” Dream’s voice was as furious as Tommy had ever heard it, and even though he knew the anger wasn’t directed at him, he still went completely rigid, not fighting the pressure of the forearm against his throat. “What the hell is wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep bullying Tommy over these stupid discs,” Techno continued affectlessly. “Seemed like the best way to get him away from you was to get rid of the thing you kept holding over him.” And Tommy hated that it was only now that he could see the hybrid in all his bastard glory, covered in netherite armor and gripping the handle of his axe, staring at the two of them like he was bored. Tommy glared at him through tear filled eyes, jaw tightening as Techno met his gaze with narrowed eyes, one of his ears flicking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s laugh started out full of confusion, then grew to a full out cackle. “You thought- what? Oh, come on, Technoblade, don’t tell me you’re that stupid. I don’t care about those discs, they’re- they’re dumb pieces of plastic! Tommy’s the only one who cared about them, and I’m the only one who cares about Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprise briefly flickered across Technoblade’s face, almost immediately washed away. “Dream, all you’ve done is scare Tommy and hurt him. You don’t care about him, you just like playin’ with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you ask Tommy himself then, huh? You think he prefers you, who betrayed him and burnt his precious discs?” Tommy’s head felt like it was being shaken, but he couldn’t discern what his body was doing through the fog of grief and terror in his mind. “Or do you think he prefers me, who protected him, who actually had let him listen to his discs, who cares about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream-” Memories muddled, Tommy couldn’t reach out to find the clarity. Dream though, he had let Tommy listen to his disc, he was… protecting him, now. Tommy hadn’t realized he had turned until he felt Dream’s hand on the back of his head, and felt the sharp edge of Dream’s chestplate digging into his chin from where he had pressed his face against Dream’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, Techno?” Dream’s voice softened, soothing to Tommy’s ears as he choked down a loud sob. “Why would he want to go with you? He must hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He might think he has every right to,” Techno admitted quietly, and Tommy’s eyes flinched shut at the sound of netherite scraping along the ground, a sharp, purposeful noise. Techno’s voice rose, thundering with purpose. “But if that’s what it takes to get him away from you, then so be it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So noble, Technoblade,” Dream said sarcastically. “The villain, playing at being the hero.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a tyrant playing at being a savior,” Techno sneered in response, footsteps drawing closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch out, Techno,” Dream said lightly, one hand leaving Tommy’s head to pull out his sword. “You might hurt him again-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s eyes shot wide at the sudden sound of water, and from the way it cut Dream’s voice off, everyone else had heard it too. Facing the way he was, though, Tommy was the first to see Wilbur, the first to see his brother, with a flush to his cheeks and water dripping from his curly hair, raise his loaded crossbow and fire it directly at Dream’s opposite shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream turned, pulling Tommy with him, but two large hands grasped him at the same time, yanking him away from Dream with a sudden force. Tommy turned to face Techno as Dream cried out in pain behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur-” Tommy started, words coming out as a delayed reaction. He flinched as he took in Techno’s presence in front of him, turning to search for anyone else. “Stop- Techno- fuck you-” he gasped, still trying to twist his head away in search of his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s hands didn’t release him until he had pulled Tommy far back, closer to the portal. “Tommy,” he spoke urgently, his voice barely a whisper. “Tommy, I have your discs. I was bluffin’. They’re in my enderchest, okay? They’re alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was shouting, behind him. It sounded like Wilbur, it sounded like Tubbo, and Phil, and Dream above them all. Tommy’s ears roared, and he stared at Techno in disbelief, head pounding as he struggled to comprehend the influx of information. “You have- what? You have my discs?” Tommy’s hands curled in the cloak around Techno’s shoulders, though at the same time he leveraged his elbows against Techno’s chest, trying to shove himself away. Techno kept a steady hand on Tommy’s back as his body stilled in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Tommy, I do. We’re gettin’ you out of here, okay?” With one hand, Techno attempted to gently pry Tommy’s hand off his cloak. Tommy clung tighter, panicked desperation flickering in his chest he heard Dream shout his name from across the room, nearly drowned out by the clash of netherite on netherite and Tubbo’s determined cries of fury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Tommy whimpered, head far too foggy to determine what he was asking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to get behind me, Tommy,” Techno ordered, his voice fading from harsh to gentle in a way Tommy found familiar. It was the same way he had talked to Tommy when he had first snuck his way into Techno’s cabin, purposefully changing the inflection of his words. “We’re gonna get you out of here- you gotta let go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t want to. It was easy to block out the world like this, fingers twisted in a familiar fabric, breathing through the aftershocks of a nightmare. His breath caught on that last thought, a near-forgotten memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head shot up at the sound of a loud, surprised cry of pain, the unfamiliar voice breaking him out of his quiet memories. Tommy turned and saw, through tear-filled eyes, an unarmored, darkly-clothed figure struggle to get back up. He fired his crossbow again, but the aim was off and it soared overhead. There was a split second of stillness before Dream was moving again instantly twisting back to slam his shield into Phil’s side. The blond man let out a grunt, sword cresting through the air only to be blocked by Dream’s own sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno took a sharp breath, and pulled Tommy’s hands away with far less gentle movements. “Tommy, stay here,” he said, voice firm with no room for argument. Tommy nodded his head sharply automatically, and watched a wince wash across Techno’s face as he charged toward Phil and Dream, leaving Tommy standing, swaying slightly, and alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy scrubbed a hand across his face, utterly lost in the chaos and confusion. He turned his head to the left, and looked at Ranboo and Tubbo. Ranboo was curled up in a corner of the room, and Tubbo knelt in front of him, his back to Tommy. He was speaking far too quietly for Tommy to catch any words, though he heard the reassuring intonation of Tubbo’s voice, the way he talked when he was calming someone down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a stuttering step forward, confusion and apprehension holding him back from running to his friend and never letting him go. Something bitter twisted in his gut, a petty jealousy over Tubbo not coming to him first, and going to Ranboo instead of him. It was easier, he realized with a jolt that made his stomach flip, when he thought that Tubbo was dead and all Tommy had to look at was his redstone lamp. He hated that thought, but it circled his mind, whispering the reminder of who his only friend really was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything here was loud and confusing and nothing like the quiet of the cell or the certainty that Tommy had when Dream visited. Tommy’s fingers stretched toward Tubbo, then drew inward, curling around his other thin wrist, and he took a step back, trying to orientate himself. He could do this. He hadn’t gone through two, or three, or however many, wars to stand as still as was right now. He was a soldier, he was a fighter, he could fight. He had fought against Dream before, and he had- well, he hadn’t won, but this time- maybe this time, if he fought through it- Tommy squeezed his hands into fists, feral determination flaring up, briefly cutting through his foggy mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand shot out in front of him, blocking him before he could take more than a few steps forward. “Tommy!” the voice said, urgent and familiar. Tommy flinched, looking to the voice of his commander, his president, his-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur?” His voice cracked, eyes widening. He had seen him, minutes earlier, shooting a crossbow at Dream right before Tommy was yanked out of his grasp. But it was something else entirely to turn and stare a dead man full in the face, and to realize that he was here and alive. Wilbur’s brown eyes were full of concern, and the look on his face was the same one he had always worn - always wore - when he was about to stop Tommy from charging off to do something stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, Tommy could hear the sound of potions splashing, and a short cry of pain followed by a roar of fury from Technoblade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Wilbur’s voice had quieted, but Tommy heard it louder than anything else. “Hey, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy crumpled, and Wilbur’s arms caught him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re back. Wilby?” Tommy rasped in disbelief. “How- how the fuck are you- and Tubbo-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be so light,” Wilbur whispered back. His arms wrapped around Tommy’s back, cradling him against his chest. Tommy clung to Wilbur, shoulders shaking in muted sobs that he muffled against Wilbur’s front. “I’ve got you, Tommy. It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” Tommy repeated, pulling back to look at Wilbur with wet eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil,” Wilbur said simply. “He brought me back, he’s… he’s trying, Tommy. He really is, now. And Techno is too, and… so am I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Trying? What d’you mean?” Tommy murmured, entirely confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur smiled, soft and apologetic. It looked almost unnatural on his face, but it didn’t seem insincere. “Trying to make up for all the hurt we all caused you, trying to fix… you know, what we did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fixing? No, Wilbur, you didn’t-” The lie rose automatically to Tommy’s tongue, so firmly instilled in him that he didn’t remember when he had started believing it. “You all- you didn’t do anything, I was the one-” Dream’s voice lingered in his ear, whispering confirmations of his own thoughts. His chest shuddered in a sob. “I was the one who fucked up so much and- and made everything worse, and made everyone h-hate me, it’s my fault-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Tommy.” Wilbur held him close again, and it felt like coming home. “Yeah. We’re definitely going to get you far away from this green dickhead. Once they take him down, we’re getting you the fuck out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’n help,” Tommy muttered, though he made no effort to move. “I can fight, Wilbur, I can help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s four of them, Tommy,” Wilbur responded, humor in his voice. “It’s alright. You don’t have to fight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not having to fight has never been an option. Not fighting wasn’t an option in the revolution, wasn’t an option in Pogtopia, it wasn’t an option when Dream set Tommy’s house aflamed and pulled him across an ocean to fight an impossible battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy straightened a bit, looking over Wilbur’s shoulder, and his breath caught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream was lying on the ground, two blades at his throat. Surprise and vindication soared in Tommy’s chest, and he tugged Wilbur to his feet. “Dream?” His voice came out wobbly, and Tommy cleared his throat, shoulder pressing against Wilbur’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re done, Dream,” Tubbo said firmly, voice shaking in fury. He pressed the blade a little deeper, coming close to cutting his throat. Tommy’s body tensed, ready to run to Tubbo the instant this shit was all over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead of anything coming to an end, Dream spoke, in a voice far too calm for the situation. “Technoblade,” he said, with the confidence of a man who knew he had won. “I think I’m going to call in that favor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy shivered, eyes widening. He thought about standing in front of the nether portal, hiding behind Techno as the two of them implied that Tommy would be a fair exchange of said favor. Tommy’s hands twisted in Wilbur’s coat, nearly choking on the lack of air in his lungs. “Don’t let him take me,” he whispered. “You can’t- don’t let him, I can’t- not again-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, Tommy.” Wilbur’s hand gripped his arm, a similarly fearful look on his face. “What- what favor is he talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you are,” Phil commented dryly with a raised eyebrow, sighing. “We’ve all beaten you, we’re literally about to slit your throat, of course you call in the favor now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Techno, you of all people should’ve figured it out from the start. We were talking about it even before these three interrupted us. Fighting me was a pointless endeavor, because you were always going to lose.” Dream’s laugh was a wheezing cackle, crawling down Tommy’s back with the worst of his memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream, cash in your favor before I stop paying attention,” Techno directed, voice terse with annoyance, heavy in what sounded like resignation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, here’s what’s going to happen.” Gently gripping the handles of the weapons, Dream pushed them away from his throat, first sitting, then standing in the center of them all. From right next to Tommy, Wilbur turned, using his taller frame to hide the teen behind him. In one hand, he held an iron shortsword, the handle of which he pressed into one of Tommy’s trembling hands. “You’re going to let me go and I’m going to take Tommy with me, and you won’t try and hunt us down for at least, oh, a week. After that, well. I’d like to see you try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fucking way,” Wilbur spat instantly, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. Tommy took in several stuttering breaths, meeting the worried gaze of Phil, the emotionless look on Techno’s face, and Tubbo’s terrified eyes. “I don’t know what kind of favor you two have worked out, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s not happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s sigh was full of condescension. “I see you haven’t changed one bit since you’ve gotten back. It’s from one obsession to another with you, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur let out a startled noise, briefly sounding like he had been punched. “Fuck you. Says you,” he countered weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, he’s right,” Tubbo said bravely, even though he was slowly shrinking behind Ranboo now that Dream had his sword out again. “The favor applies to Technoblade, not us. We’re not just going to let you take him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if your Blade can’t fight with you, then there is nothing stopping me from taking your last life-” Dream sliced his sword up, only blocked by Ranboo’s sudden movement of his shield in front of Tubbo. Dream quickly turned, glare darting to Phil, sword leveled at him. “-or his only one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno?” Tommy questioned, but Techno had already taken a step back, closed fists shaking, head turned down. Everyone else seemed similarly frozen, except Dream, who lowered his sword and turned toward Wilbur and Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time to go,” he said firmly, and when Tommy started forward on habit, Wilbur held him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Wilbur said firmly, free hand splayed out in front of Tommy, standing wide and protective. “I’m not letting you take him away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but Wilbur. You’re even more vulnerable than the rest of them. You’re just as much of a self-destructive fool as you were with your last life, and there is nothing special about you that could even try and protect Tommy from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Wanna fucking go?” Wilbur challenged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream laughed shortly, and fired his crossbow. No one had seen him switch it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone screamed as the bolt drove through the air and pierced the center of Wilbur’s unarmored chest. Ears ringing, Tommy belatedly realized it had been him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s hands trembled, dropping, and he doubled over, collapsing in front of Tommy.  Blood leaked onto the ground, streaming through the divots in the blackstone floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream walked toward him, hand out. “It’s time to leave, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Tommy looked at the brother he had only just gotten back, stared at his shaking and convulsing and dying form on the floor. He looked at the sword in his hand, and though the room was built of blocks of darkness, blackstone and obsidian, Tommy only saw red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not fighting had never been an option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!” he screamed, rushing at Dream and driving Wilbur’s sword at Dream’s chestplate. It did very little except unbalance Dream, who took a few startled steps back. Tommy swung, adrenaline and pent up fury fueling his rapid movements as his hand cracked against Dream’s mask, catching him up under his jaw. “Fuck you, you green prick, I’m not going with you, I’m not letting you take me fucking anywhere!” His hands burned and his lungs screamed for respite but Tommy knew that his body would only stop moving when the bastard before him was fucking dead. “I’m going to fucking kill you for that.” And a realization struck him as he slashed low at an unprotected spot on Dream’s thigh. “And I’m going to fight you until my last fucking breath for that, you- you really fucked up this time, bitch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream snarled, grabbing Tommy’s arm and twisting it, but Tommy kicked upward right in between Dream’s legs, and the man let go with a startled yell, shoving and sending Tommy’s unbalanced body tumbling across the room. Tommy landed with a grunt, arms trembling underneath him as he pushed himself to his feet. Blood dripped from a punch to his nose he didn’t remember taking. The world spun, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Techno and Ranboo crouched next to Wilbur’s body, and he stood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy!” From across the room, his best friend shouted his name, furiously waving to get Tommy’s attention. The instant Tommy looked to him, Dream did as well, but instead of readying himself, Tubbo slid a gleaming netherite axe across the floor, directly to Tommy, before yelping and dashing away from Dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked up the axe, fingers running along the words carved into the hand that he didn’t have time to read. Then he charged with all the confidence of a man who knew he couldn’t die, and brought the axe down on Dream’s back before he could turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than anything, Tommy thought he hated how Dream never stopped laughing, like he was still in control, through all of this. “You aren’t going to kill me, Tommy,” he teased, like they were bantering as old friends, back in the days when the skies were clear and the grounds of their church had only just been plotted. “We’re friends, you won’t kill me, just like I won’t kill you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A familiar, steady figure stepped to Tommy’s side, and Phil spoke over Dream’s sickeningly sweet, twisted words. “You’re no friend of his. You’re a sick bastard, and we’re putting you in your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t give Dream a chance to down potions, or chug gaps. Any attempt made was blocked by Phil, or halted by some interference from Tubbo. Somehow they moved seamlessly, with Tommy and Tubbo falling in sync instantly and Phil filling in the gaps, adapting to their movements. All the while Tommy bore down, arms screaming with exhaustion that he pushed aside in favor of bringing the axe down, again and again. Phil steadied him when he thought he might fall, bracing him when Dream tried to dodge to the side. Tommy leaned into the trust, and let it carry him forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the tides turned, for the first time in Tommy’s rotten streak of luck. “We’re friends, Tommy!” Dream screamed at one point, pushing himself up on his palms from where he had fallen over. For once, he didn’t sound carefully controlled. Now his voice frayed with panic, hurriedly trying to speak before Tommy could swing the axe again. “Remember all the good times we had? We played so many fun games, Tommy, and I- I was the only one who ever really cared for you. No one else will ever give a single shit about you, Tommy, you’re really going to kill me? Your friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil and Tubbo stood just behind him, twin pillars of stability and memory, ready to catch him if he fell instead of pulling him down farther.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Tommy murmured, pushing through the burnout of bodily exhaustion. His words were level, though, as he met Dream’s eyes with a finality. “You’ve tried to kill all of mine. And you failed.” He was too tired to feel the full satisfaction he had long since dreamed of in the way he brought the axe down on Dream’s neck, and he barely heard the final gagging cry pass Dream’s lips before his body fell still. Tommy dropped to his knees, leaving the axe buried within Dream’s throat. “I won,” he spat sorrowfully, tears falling from his eyes. “Dickhead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at the body in front of him, waiting for Dream to open his mouth, to say something else, to continue this nightmare of a game that Tommy had never been able to escape from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s dead,” Phil confirmed, placing a gentle hand on Tommy’s arm. Tommy hand rose, gripping Phil’s hand tightly as he allowed the man to pull him up. And when Tommy’s legs faltered, Phil caught him this time, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s trembling form in a gentle hug. “It’s over,” he soothed as Tommy pressed his face to Phil’s shoulder, gently leading him away from the slowly dissolving body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did it, I really- I killed him,” Tommy rasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did.” Phil’s voice was full of pride, but tinged with notes of sorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really over.” Tommy turned his head at the second voice to say so, and met Tubbo’s tear-filled eyes with his own. “Tommy-” Tommy tore away from Phil as Tubbo ran to him, reaching out as far as possible to reach him as fast as possible. They crashed to the ground, limbs wrapped around each other in a messy tangle. One of Tommy’s arms was in Tubbo’s hair, the other around his back, and Tubbo’s arms were wrapped around the back of Tommy’s neck as they collided in a bone crushing hug that sent every part of Tommy’s exhausted body wailing in protest, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told me you died,” Tommy sobbed into Tubbo’s shoulder. “And I almost fuckin’ believed him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alive because of you, big man,” Tubbo said through gasping breaths. “I’m sorry it took so long to find you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright.” Tommy pressed his forehead to Tubbo’s, both of their tears subsiding as they held each other. “You found me now, you’ve got me, Tubbo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you,” Tubbo agreed, retracting one of his arms from around Tommy’s neck to grab his hand. Tommy squeezed his hand back, twisting their fingers together. Tubbo’s forehead rested against Tommy’s chest, but Tommy heard his voice loud and clear. “I- I almost can’t believe it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither can I,” Slowly, awareness came back to him, and Tommy turned his head, looking at Phil. He stood, pulling Tubbo with him, suspicion and fear darting across his mind. Tubbo gripped his hand tight, a silent promise to not let go. “Phil, why’d you come?” Tommy asked. “Why- I mean, I thought- after everything, and I mean, everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a few different people slap some sense into me,” Phil admitted, and next to him, Tubbo let out a stifled laugh, some private joke Tommy had clearly missed. “And I realized that no matter what decisions either of us made that the other didn’t agree with, it doesn’t mean that I could just stand by while you were being hurt.” Guilt filled his voice, and it made Tommy’s heart ache with a longing he hadn’t realized he still felt. “Not again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy swallowed tightly, unsure how to cross this threshold of vulnerability that lingered between them. “Oh, I mean, it’s alright, Phil. He wasn’t going to kill me, so even if you hadn’t- I mean, I could’ve-” his train of thought disappeared, and he shut his mouth, not entirely sure what he was about to say next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil opened his mouth to respond, a similar hesitation on his face, but before he could, Techno called his name. Tommy turned at the sound, the reminder of what had spurred him to action hitting his chest like a minecart barreling directly at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his arms, Techno held Wilbur, his front stained with drying blood, his eyes shut. Pulling Tubbo with him, Tommy crossed the room with a shout. “Wilbur!” He fell again, barely reacting as his knees slammed against bloody blackstone. “Techno, is he- he’s not- I mean, you just got him back, surely he can’t-” Panic clawed at his throat, stuttering his words. “He’s not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy.” Techno’s voice cut through his panic. “If you refrain from interruptin’ me for like, five more seconds, I was about to tell Phil and you that he survived. He’s hurt, but he’s alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank fucking Prime,” Phil gasped from behind them, crouching down next to Tommy with a steady hand on his shoulder. Tommy leaned into it, silently craving any touch that wasn’t shoving him around or gripping so tight that it hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I- I had some healing potions, so Techno and I, we got the arrow out and- see?” Ranboo lifted Wilbur’s shirt, and Tommy saw the bloodstained bandages that were wrapped around his chest. A muted sob of relief left his mouth as he watched Wilbur’s chest slowly rise and fall. “He’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his free hand, Tommy reached out and took Wilbur’s hand, squeezing it gently.“So can we get the fuck out of here now, then?” he rasped after a moment of stillness. “I hate this place. So much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Tubbo chimed in. “I also hate this place a lot. It’s where I nearly died.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, this place gives me the creeps,” Phil muttered. “Let’s just grab what good stuff we can, and get the fuck out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so they left. Phil lifted the Axe of Peace from the wall, and clipped leads around the animals to lead out of the vault. Tommy passed Tubbo’s axe back to him, and the two of them stood over the items Dream had left behind, dividing it up between them. Tubbo fixed the straps of the chestplate over Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy laughed when Dream’s helmet fell just a bit over Tubbo’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Phil was still gathering things up, Tommy made his way over to Wilbur and Techno again. He stayed standing, but only because his legs shook so much from exhaustion that he feared if he tried to sit down he wouldn’t get back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy,” Techno started, standing and drawing Tommy’s attention. Tommy looked at him quizzically, and after a beat of silence between them, Techno pulled out a golden apple and held it out to Tommy, saying in a terse voice, “We don’t need you collapsing before we actually get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy had already snatched the apple before Techno finished speaking, holding it close to his chest and looking at Techno in light surprise “Yeah, alright,” he mumbled before sinking his teeth into the magical fruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean- listen, I’m already carrying Wilbur, you might be light but you’re not that light. And you look exhausted, too, so-” Techno gestured aimlessly, and didn’t finish his sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am exhausted,” Tommy admitted quietly between bites, so quietly he wondered if Techno had even heard it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno crouched back down, picking Wilbur up with both hands, and nodded at Tommy. “You did good, Tommy,” he said, leaving Tommy standing alone with a blooming feeling of warmth in his chest, something bigger than the rush of the golden apple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, when they all stood on the platform, as it slowly rose them up toward the sky, there was no terror of where Tommy was going to be led, or rising horror with the realization of where they were. There was only quiet contentment as he stood hand in hand with Tubbo, with Techno holding an unconscious Wilbur next to him, and Phil and Ranboo standing close by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a buzz that caught Tommy’s attention as the platform came to a stop, and Tubbo took out his communicator, a smile growing on his face. “Oh, Prime. I’ve got excellent news, all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Tommy said instantly, and everyone who was conscious echoed his words. “What is it, Tubbo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know how we all weren’t really sure where Dream was going to respawn?” Tubbo asked. “So, apparently he just respawned at spawn, which is… well, Sam was there, because he respawned, too. But that meant that he got to Dream first. And called for backup.” A smile crossed his face, slowly growing wider as the group stepped out of the mouth of the cave. “They’re taking him to the prison right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.” Sunlight hit Tommy’s face, bright and warm, for the first time in what felt like ages. “He’s going to be in prison, he- he’s not coming back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly not,” Tubbo agreed cheerfully, bumping shoulders with Tommy . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil crafted boats, and the ride back was full of easy conversation and laughter, as Tubbo recounted parts of the past week that Tommy had missed. Tommy could tell of course, that all these stories were forcibly light-hearted, he hadn’t missed the stress that ran tight between all of his companions. But for once, he let himself indulge in it, he laughed when he heard about Tubbo snap at Technoblade and the time that Wilbur mistook part of the nuclear missile for a stick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what was with Ranboo?” Tommy asked at one point, turning in the boat Tubbo was rowing to look at the hybrid. “Some of the stuff Dream said, I almost didn’t- he said you were a traitor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo froze, eyes widening. “I’m- I’m not- I mean- uh,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turns out you aren’t the only person Dream’s been messing with,” Phil spoke over him, and Tommy watched Ranboo give the older man a grateful smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And here I thought I was special,” Tommy responded dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah, well, uh, Dream has… sort of been in my head? Like, his voice has been, and I’ve, well, not by choice, but when I’m- asleep I’ve been like, walking, and apparently helping him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck,” Tommy said, deadpan. “But you didn’t mean to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Ranboo hurried to speak again. “No, I didn’t- I don’t want to help Dream, he- I don’t want to but it’s not really, um, in my control?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Tommy frowned. “Alright, then. Is something being done about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to experiment on him!” Tubbo said brightly from in front of Tommy, drawing a startled yelp from the hybrid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no we are not!” Ranboo shouted, though both their voices were light with humor as they briefly bickered, before Ranboo looked back to Tommy. “But, uh, actually Techno and Phil, they’re, they’re going to help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, good, that’s good to hear, man,” Tommy said, catching Phil’s steady gaze. He swallowed tightly, and looked at Tubbo’s back again. The group continued in an uneasy silence until the prison loomed over the horizon, thick black smoke still billowing into the sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, wait, so you actually nuked the fuckin’ prison?” Tommy asked as they docked their boats. “Holy shit, I reckon I heard that, but that was- I mean, we were super far out, it must have been a huge explosion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of, you have to remember that we were blasting through a crap ton of obsidian.” Tubbo winced as soon as he said that, and Tommy’s eyes furrowed, scanning his friend for any new injuries, but Tubbo waved him off. “Sorry, I’m alright. I just remembered that I told Sam I’d repair any damages we did, which means I’ve got a lot of mining to do for the next while. It’s alright though!” he finished, looking at Tommy with a wide grin. “It’s absolutely worth it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Interrupted in his response, Tommy looked up the hill from where their group was standing on the shore. Running down the hill, a blue sheep bounding at his side, was the ghost Tommy had gotten used to seeing more than his currently living brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ghostbur?” Tommy gasped as the gray-skinned specter threw his arms around Tommy in a freezing hug. “Wh- how are you here? Isn’t-” he turned to look at the alive-Wilbur in alarm, but Techno only shook his head, and Tommy could still see Wilbur’s chest rise and fall. “How are you here, if he’s alive? What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you get your discs back, Tommy?” Ghostbur asked brightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy blinked at the reminder. “I mean, Techno said they were in his enderchest, and I assume he plans on giving them back to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Techno said, the upward curve in his lips giving away how serious he actually was. “I was thinking of starting this totally original conflict where you and I fight over two music discs for a really long time, I was thinking of calling them the Disc Wars-” Even Techno couldn’t keep a small chuckle from escaping him at that point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bastard.” But Tommy was laughing too, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt light and easy between them. Techno’s eyes crinkled with laughter as he met Tommy’s gaze</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you get them, Tommy?” There was a slight urgency in Ghostbur’s bright voice, something slightly unusual. “Can we go listen to them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy looked around and caught Phil’s eye, silently seeking an answer. “Let’s go,” Phil said, curiosity in the undertones of his voice. “I think…” he trailed off, and shook his head. “Come on. Let’s go listen to your discs, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s unconscious body was laid on the bench once they reached the spot, untouched in the time Tommy had been away. Techno, after stretching his arms, put down an enderchest, and reached inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still have your disc, you know,” Tommy blurted as Techno was pulling them out. “The- you know. Techno’s Canon Disc.” He wasn’t really sure why he said it, but it felt important to tell Techno that. It felt like it meant more words than he was really saying, and he hoped Techno understood what he did not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should hope so,” Techno said roughly as he passed over two discs, ringed with purple and green. “It’s a pretty important disc. Good to know you didn’t get that one stolen.” And somehow, Tommy knew he understood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s breath caught as he held both discs in his hand for the first time in months. “Yeah,” he whispered, his smile flickering. “They are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur’s gray hands clapped in excitement as Tommy walked over to the jukebox and silently deliberated what to play. “Thank you, Tommy,” he said as Tommy set Cat over the center spindle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” Tommy asked, brow furrowing in confusion, hand hovering over the needle that would start the music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur’s smile was one of peace as the melodies of Cat began to fill the air with their bright, tumbling sounds. “You’ve got Wilbur back, you’ve got your discs.” He placed one hand on Tommy’s cheek, a small line of blue tracing down his own face. “I’m proud of you, Tommy” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ghostbur,” Tommy began, attempting to grab hold of his sweatered wrist, only for his hand to pass through. “Wait, why- why does this feel like a goodbye, what the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a goodbye, Tommy,” Ghostbur said softly. “It’s your happy ending, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Prime,” Phil whispered sharply. When Tommy could no longer keep his eyes from blinking, there was a split second of darkness, and then Ghostbur was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the bench, Wilbur stirred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Tubbo whispered as both him and Tommy turned from where the ghost had been to where Wilbur was on the bench. “What the hell was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blinked open sharp, focused brown eyes, frowning. He pressed a hand to his head, and then his chest as he sat up. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned. Then his eyes widened, taking in their surroundings. “What’re we doing here? I… fuck, I got shot, and…” He blinked, hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s over, mate. Tommy killed him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good,” Wilbur said faintly. “Because I’m pretty sure I just got a bunch of memories from… from Ghostbur, wherever that weirdo just disappeared to, and holy shit.” His eyes didn’t leave Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy swallowed, pushing past it. “Yeah, I fuckin’ killed him, got my discs back, ‘n everything.” He forced a smile, looking away from Wilbur’s piercing glare to Phil’s softer one. “Phil’s right. It’s really over, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy,” Wilbur started, pain in his eyes. “Tommy, I know- I saw, though Ghostbur, what he did to you, how can you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Wil!” Tommy cut him off, ears burning under the stare of everyone. “It’s fine, I’ve worked past it, and now he can’t hurt me again. So- don’t start. It’s fine.” He twisted his head, cheeks flushing with everyone’s eyes on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to talk later,” Wilbur grumbled, quiet enough that everyone else could pretend they didn’t hear as Tommy fixed Wilbur with a glare and fell silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all can leave now,” he pushed, an undirected bitter feeling springing in his chest. “Thank you all for- everything, but, um, you can leave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil looked to Techno and Ranboo for confirmation, and both hybrids rose to their feet with a slight nod. “Wil, you coming with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy tried to keep his face impassive, but panic welled up in him at the thought of Wilbur disappearing where he wasn’t going to follow, of Phil and Techno and Wilbur leaving him alone, not again, he didn’t want to be alone again-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna stick around for a little bit, I think,” Wilbur said easily, all former traces of anger wiped from his face as he looked at the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo stood and hugged Ranboo, the massive height difference between them almost comical. He whispered something Tommy couldn’t hear to the hybrid, and they both shared a smile. Ranboo lifted his head, giving that same kind smile to Tommy, who returned it with a little bit more uncertainty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, suit yourself then, mate,” Phil said, pulling Tommy’s focus with his next words. “Hey, Tommy?” He stepped a little ways away, gesturing with one hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cat looped over again. Wilbur’s heavy gaze now fell on Phil as Tommy followed him to the doorstep of his own home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up, big man?” Tommy asked, hearing his nerves betray him in his tone. “Today was a pretty- well, I’ll admit, pretty unexpected day, all things- I mean, all things considered.” He kicked one foot against the dirt side of his house. “I mean, I didn’t expect- well, lots, I suppose. To leave, for- for you to show up, or Wilbur, um,” his voice lapsed, unable to condense or even process the events of today into one sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, we’ve been working together for quite a while to get you back, and like I said, ah,” Phil’s voice similarly trailed off before he cleared his throat and continued. “I feel like we’ve got some things to talk about, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Tommy asked, voice only cracking slightly. “We do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we have for a while, yeah,” Phil confirmed. “You should probably rest up, though, and when you’re doing a bit better, I think we could talk. That sound good with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy flexed his fingers at his side. Later, a word that usually meant never, if past promises were anything to go on. Tommy bit his tongue and nodded at Phil, not trusting himself to say anything more. His shoulders tensed around his ears, chin dipping as he avoided Phil’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gentle arms folded around him, and Tommy’s chin fell on Phil’s shoulder as the older man gathered him in a tight hug. With shaking arms, Tommy wrapped his arms around Phil’s back, staring out past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soon, I promise,” Phil murmured. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, you let me know, and we’ll figure out a time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded again, heart settling a little with the reassurance. After a minute, the two of them stepped back. Phil straightened his robes, and Tommy hid his flushed cheeks with a cough, a hand pressed to his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you, Tommy,” Phil said, waving his hand in a farewell. Tommy watched him, Techno, and Ranboo depart, and figured that he’d be paying them a visit pretty soon. So, there was little pain in his heart as he watched them go. This wasn’t the end for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Tommy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Tommy bounded toward the bench, toward his closest friends. Exhaustion kept him from hopping over the back of the bench like he wanted to, and so he settled for sitting on the side of the bench, forcing a grin at the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a day, huh?” Tubbo said quietly. Tommy slid off the arm of the bench and next to Tubbo, gathering his shorter friend in his arms the minute they were next to each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a day, indeed,” Tommy mused, nearly entirely wrapped around his friend as the both leaned back against the bench. “Thank you, Tubbo. For all you did to get me out, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s words were slightly muffled where half his face was pressed against Tommy’s shirt. “I mean, it didn’t even work, we didn’t even technically break you out of the prison. I barely did anything honestly-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, man,” Tommy groaned, at the same time Wilbur voiced a similar protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you, Tubbo, without you we’d still have no idea of a way to get into that prison in the first place.” Wilbur ruffled Tubbo’s hair from where he sat on Tubbo’s other side, grinning at Tommy over his shoulder. “Be proud of yourself, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Tubbo,” Tommy repeated, distantly wondering how many times it would take for him to say it before his friend believed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just glad you held on for so long,” Tubbo deflected again, squeezing Tommy in a slightly tighter hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When he told me you were dead, I nearly didn’t,” Tommy admitted. “But I knew you’d come for me. Both of you, beating death. What a sight, ey?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything for you, Tommy,” Wilbur said kindly, and Tommy’s chest stuttered, and he pressed his face into Tubbo’s shoulder to hide the way his eyes burned with grateful tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, are you crying?” Wilbur cooed in that familiar, mocking way of his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy snarled with very little heat to his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s laugh was throaty. “It has been a very long week for all of us, so, I mean, it’s frankly understandable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not crying,” Tommy insisted, as if he hadn’t wept more today than he had in weeks past. “Fuck all of you, fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that’s more like the Tommy I know,” Wilbur teased, but Tommy could see tears in his eyes, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re all such a fucking mess, holy shit,” Tommy muttered, and Wilbur started laughing at that, of all things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, things ended quite similar to the world where Punz arrived with his backup before the dire end could come. Dream was still locked away to be guarded by a bitter warden, and two teens watched the sunset while the notes of their beloved discs hung in the air. But this time, in this world, there were no promises of resurrection that hadn’t already been fulfilled. There were to be times for talking and times for living, crossing chasms with people who were being given second chances with one another. Whether this world would be a better one or not was not a for sure thing, but there was one thing that was certain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky was clear, and all the golden orange hues streaked with pink and purple across it. Tommy looked out at the setting sun, and thought that he had never seen anything quite as beautiful. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the second "part" of this series is NOT a sequel. it is a bonus scene. if you like fight scenes, go check it out :)</p><p>yeah, maybe this has like. the same ending as canon. but in my defense, this is what i wanted to happen so i just rewrite canon as i see fit. hope y'all don't mind if the ending felt way too familiar haha, i hope you still enjoyed. </p><p>THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! it's been amazing getting so much love from you all who are enjoying the story, it really motivates me to continue writing new stories for you all (and trust me, i have plenty of new stories coming) </p><p>comments and kudos are appreciated!!! see you in the next one<br/>twitter: @sbimellohi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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